The Door in the Mist
by Punk19
Summary: An alien-father is looking for his wife and sons, who have been missing for 1,600 years; after finally gaining the clue that he needs to find them, he finds himself having to overcome the many obstacles that try to bar his efforts in claiming them as his. Will Master Vile, the father of Angel Irene, thwart his uncle's attempts to find his daughter or will his uncle be victorious?
1. Prologue

The fifty inch flat-screen tv, that was both on the wall and had a pulsating, red-colored frame to it, was turned on. A white zap was seen, then the sound of static was heard; the screen stayed black for a few seconds before an image appeared. The program, that had been playing earlier, had just gone off; the credits of the program rolled by slowly for a few seconds before the image that they were on was pulled to the side. Another image appeared beside the one that the rolling credits were on; the large, silver eyes, that were looking out from a pair of goggled glasses, watched the just-concluded program's credits roll for a few seconds before turning his attention to the screen's secondary image.

The person watching the tv was nervous for a reason—a week ago today, he had participated in a Missing Persons segment, which was to be aired here and soon. After the credits of the just-concluded program ended, a bunch of commercials were shown; the segment that the man was waiting to see started being aired after five commercials were shown. As expected, the credits of the program were shown first; after ten seconds of credit rolling, the program started—a female reporter, who was wearing a knee-high blue dress, and who had blonde hair and sea-green eyes, started the program off; she was walking down a yellow sidewalk that was flanked on both sides by lush, blue grass.

The viewer's heart started beating a little faster as the reporter started the program; the reporter, someone that he knew only slightly, had come to his place a few weeks ago to do a segment on the missing members of his family. Galosa Spiklo had asked if she could do a program on his missing loved ones; after being green-lit for the program being done on his family, she had asked if one of her colleagues could gain permission to walk around certain areas of his property during the shoot. The appointed reporter that shown up had been allowed to walk through certain areas of his land and she had also been allowed to walk down a hallway or two in his house—all matter of professionalism had been exhibited by both her, Galosa Spiklo, and the camera crew. If not for that professionalism, and for the showing of a card that declared the reporter, the camera crew, and Galosa Spiklo as being legit in the television program business, he wouldn't of allowed for them to come anywhere near his home.

"Typically, when someone goes missing, it's left in the hands of the law to find where they went; a team of investigators and officers will scout the area, looking for any and all disturbances, or clues that might have been left behind by the one who is missing or by his, or her, abductor. Ones who were close to the missing person would be approached and then asked specific questions on what the missing person was doing the day before their disappearance, or if something was going on to warrant such a disappearance to happen. The assigned team of investigators will do all that they can to find the missing person and then return him or her to their family or, if said person is deceased, to find their remains and then return them to their family, so they can have closure. Over the last several millenia, this is how it's been done by both civilian and law enforcement; for one family, though, the chore of looking for their missing loved ones proved too great to leave in the capable hands of law enforcement. There is only one being in the Universe that her family has taken to doing the chore of finding and then personally bringing back home and that is Angel Irene.

"Angel Irene, a lovely woman who was very much sought for by more than one, seemed to of been tamed down. She seemed to be enjoying life with her family—an activity that, before giving birth to four children, she hadn't allowed herself to partake in. Discovered at the believed age of two hundred and thirty-eight, the woman was, initially, sought after by her famous father—members of the family that disowned him teamed-up with him in trying to subdue the woman after she continued to thwart him and his plans."

"The real reason behind my joining up with my son revolves around the discovery that I had grandchildren." the caption, that was underneath the man who was being interviewed, who's gold-colored elongated ears went just half the length of his shoulders, said that he was KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit—Angel Irene's paternal grandfather. "I didn't really intend to un-disown my son, but it happened and I'm glad for it. I grew close to his three children, including the wayward one, who I grew very attached to, and who I assisted in bringing in several times."

"Angel Irene was pursued by her father, the mighty Master Vile, for two long years before her grandparents, KurukVile Surfeit and his wife, Irka Shaiden, got involved in trying to bring her in. She had them all running for quite some time, even going from one galaxy to another in an attempt to shake them off, before being captured. During the time that her grandparents, and, later, her great-uncle and great-grandmother, and then, near the end, her great-grandfather, joined in to assist their own in the capture, she was picked to be her father's Family Mate—a child was swiftly conceived, and then lost after she traveled to one of her grandfather's conquered galaxies for an abortion, after the marriage claim. Soon after being captured, she became pregnant again." the reporter continued with her story; she was now walking down a yellow road that was flanked on either side by purple and brown rocks and pebbles. An occasional cluster of purple grass could be seen from time to time as she moved along.

"A lot contributed to her turning against her unborn child—her unhappiness, the feeling like she was being caged in, and the feelings that family members expressed towards her, mostly." KurukVile Surfeit was saying. "She accepted the child, and the chore of motherhood, after escaping us; we're not really sure on what happened for her to change her feelings on the child—most of us think that her having to fend for herself in hunting for food, and in keeping warm, and then, finally, holding her son for the first time did the trick in changing her general attitude towards being a mother."

"Angel Irene went to this planet here," the reporter was now walking on Earth; behind her were a series of pink shields, all of which were casting a faint breeze and hum towards her. "to give birth to her first to-term child and then continue her plight in keeping away from her family. It was during the first few months of her being a mother that her great-uncle began pursuing her, but not in a capture and hand over way. It was soon discovered that he was meant for her—picked by the Universal Gods to be her Universal Mate and dominant partner."

"It actually started sooner; my nephew showed me a picture of his daughter, which I never really returned to him. I couldn't take my eyes off the photograph; I was doing the pace-routine in my library, office, and bedroom for a while, thinking myself crazy. It—our feelings for one another—really picked up after she gave birth. I caught her a few times; I was going through a particularly rough time in my life, which she helped me in getting through. After the third capture, we coupled."

The viewer nodded his head; the person, that was on the screen now, was him. He had been asked a few questions, most of which he had answered.

"Angel Irene soon returned to Earth after coupling with her great-uncle, who swiftly became her Universal Mate—when she returned to the planet, she was pregnant. She was said to of nearly lost the child that she was carrying but, by miraculous circumstances, she retained and recovered; it was only after her action in bringing her great-great grandfather back to life from his extended sleep in Limbo that she was captured again. She, along with her first son, was brought to the planet of Moas in the M-51 Galaxy soon after being caught; sources claim that she was marvelously happy during the final months of her pregnancy." the reporter was now walking and pointing at a large, burgundy mansion, that had a spiral-structured roof that a gold sphere sat on the top of. "Angel Irene gave birth to her second child, another son, in this mansion on March 8—about two thousand, one hundred years ago."

"My firstborn son was a very healthy thing—weighed around six pounds, ten ounces. He was one of two born on that day." the viewer blinked his eyes; seeing himself sitting on the immense porch that was in front of his mansion, answering these questions, brought forth so many memories—both good and bad.

"Not only was Angel Irene to give birth in this residence but so, too, was her grandmother, Irka Surfeit, who also gave birth to a son—BarukVile Glosu Surfeit, who weighed seven and a half pounds at birth.

"A reported three months of bliss occurred after the dual births, then something happened to send Angel Irene running again. Sources have said that the reason behind this run lies on what happened between her and her father after the birth of her son occurred; others say that it was just her nature, as she didn't seem to be one who liked remaining settle for long. Either or, Angel Irene was captured after almost a year on the run." the reporter was now standing before a fortress home. "Soon after being captured, she was brought here, to the house of her grandparents, who thought it best for her to get use to her family. Angel Irene was in the residence for all of three weeks before escaping again; a woman, who had been captured along with her and her sons, went with her. The woman got away while Angel Irene was captured and then returned to the residence. It was during her stay at this residence that three more infants were born. SyamsinVile Palus, a son born to CelobraVile Surfeit and Pagnyar Palus, and TralisaVile Veonim, a daughter born to BenociVile Surfeit and Qepax Veonim—grandchildren of TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit and Bahne Brotzol—and GaajahVile Surfeit, a son born to DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit and Cyla Dybla."

He felt the bed bounce as the reporter rambled on, saying that TrobrencusVile Surfeit and Bahne Brotzol were related to Angel Irene... saying how they were her great-great grandfather's uncle and aunt, and saying that DuruVile Surfeit and his wife, Cyla Dybla, were also related to Angel Irene—they were her great-grandparents, the reporter said; the reporter also said that DuruVile Surfeit was the only surviving son and child of ShaamVile Surfeit. The reporter showed the rooms where Angel Irene most frequented in KurukVile Surfeit's house; she did a few more interviews before relinquishing the program to a new reporter—a man, who stood six foot, three inches tall, and who was wearing a dark blue tuxedo and tie, took over without missing a breath. As the viewer listened, his daughter placed her hand on his; she squeezed the hand that she touched. After feeling her sorrow, he got control of himself; he sat upright, straightened his tie, cleared his throat, then went back to watching the program.

"It was in this mansion here that she gave birth four hundred years after her second son was born. HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit was born on April 23 at six o' one in the morning. She had been thought to of been carrying a daughter by her Universal Husband—who, in several interviews, she claimed to love dearly. She and TazirVile Surfeit were elated when the child turned out to be a male; the birth was only the third for Mr. Surfeit, who also has a daughter from his first marriage.

"The couple loved the job of parenthood; they doted on their children—TazirVile even adopted Bile Vile, the son of his nephew, who was born to Angel Irene a hundred years before LhaklarVile Surfeit was born, and Angel Irene adopted EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, the daughter from TazirVile's first marriage." the male reporter was saying. "It was a hundred years later, after an ill-encounter with her father, after she went to see if he and she could work out their differences, that she conceived again."

"It was a toss-up with that child—everyone was calling cards, drawing straws, placing bets, and so on about what his paternity was." the caption underneath the man, who had a half carmine pink and maroon face, said that he was ShaamVile Surfeit—Angel Irene's great-great grandfather. "We were all there for Lhaklar's birth, same for Hazaar's; we never had a chance to see Lazeer being born."

"At one in the afternoon, Angel Irene was terrified to find that she was going through an early labor after her water broke on the stairs. TazirVile Surfeit rushed her to the hospital, where doctors said that she was in full labor and that, at only five and a half moths gestation, her baby might not make it. On February 13, at eight thirty-five p.m., Angel Irene gave birth to a tiny baby; a son that she and TazirVile swiftly named LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit." the male reporter was now in a hospital; he was standing in front of a doctor, who was wearing a blue doctor's suit.

"LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit was, without a shadow of a doubt, TazirVile Surfeit's get. He looked like him and, despite being small and premature, was right healthy after birth." the doctor said when questioned about Angel Irene's fourth child. "During the night, though, he got quite sickly."

"LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit underwent hours of treatment; the best of medicine and doctors were put on him. It seemed that the tiny Surfeit wasn't going to make it but, miraculously, after three days, he came around. He stayed in this hospital for all of two weeks, growing in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. At his side was his mother, Angel Irene, father, TazirVile Surfeit, one of his grandfathers, DuruVile Surfeit, and his great-grandfather, ShaamVile Surfeit." the reporter was now walking outside of the hospital. "Angel Irene and TazirVile Surfeit refused to leave the hospital during their tiny newborn's fight for his life; when they were able to take him home they were ecstatic."

"Lazeer, in the four months that I knew him, went back and forth from Cawanuuk Hospital. His mother was a mess, she was stressed out; the doctors said that, if her son survived, he'd have mental issues. We pretty much just left them alone. We stayed away, letting the parents deal with it. It was a big mess, a huge mess. If I could of done anything differently, I'd of been there for them; maybe then she wouldn't of run off with her sons." ShaamVile Surfeit said.

"Angel's father, who she was still having difficulties with, thought in her best interest to take her from all the stress that she was experiencing. He had plans to remove her from all four of her sons—take her away; make her abandon me, her babies, and Eshal. After four months, she snapped. She ran off. I've been looking for her and our sons ever since."

The viewer fought, and lost, to not look down. When he looked at his hands, which were wrapped around his knees, he swallowed.

"Angel Irene left the mansion behind me, TazirVile, and EshalVile on the night of June 20; she hasn't been seen since. Her family put forth a gallant search to find her and her sons—everyone was involved." the male reporter was in front of the burgundy mansion; he was walking away, down the yellow path that led from the structure's immense front porch. "Over the years, the numbers in the search have dropped due to not finding a trace of her or her sons. TrobrencusVile and his family, Master Vile and his family, and DuruVile and his family broke from the search after two hundred years of searching. ShaamVile left the search a hundred years later; almost all of KurukVile and TazirVile Surfeit's siblings followed in his example. KurukVile Surfeit and his wife dropped out of the search after seven hundred years of searching. The only ones that are still searching, and that are still holding onto hope that Angel Irene and her sons will be found alive and well, are TazirVile Surfeit, his younger sister, QeetaVile Surfeit, and Cheshire and Ashaklar Ubalki—along with Mr. and Mrs. Ubalki's two grown children, Efagti, Amadh, and their two teenage children, Phaggo and Blaiga. The Ubalki family are all related to TazirVile Surfeit—Ashaklar being his mother and Cheshire Ubalki being his stepfather—and are also related to Angel Irene and her sons."

"You've searched for sixteen hundred years, what keeps you searching?" the female reporter was asking TazirVile Surfeit.

"We're clinging to a hope; I'd feel it if she was gone, the same with our sons. I don't feel as if I've lost my other half, that's what's kept me going—along with the hope to have her returned to Moas, and my great love for her." TazirVile Surfeit said.

"Don't you think you've caused the lives of your oldest child, mother, stepfather, sister, and younger half-siblings to stop because of your continued search for her?" the report asked.

"I've told them that, if they don't want to continue searching for her, they don't have to. They've stuck with me in searching for her because they love her and her sons just as much as I do." TazirVile replied.

"If you find her remains, or the remains of her sons, what will you do then? Will you go back to your life and let everyone else go back to theirs?" the reporter asked.

The program ended swiftly after that; the man, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, looked at the reporter for a long while before sighing. He stood up, then removed the mic from his shirt; all of the wiring from the device that was hooked onto the belt that was around his waist was undone. After doing all of this, he turned then went into his mansion; he said nothing else to the reporter. The camera followed him for a few seconds before stopping; the program ended with a series of photographs that depicted Angel Irene and her sons. All of the photographs that were shown were of them before they disappeared—underneath the photograph that depicted LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, there was _February 13, 2,499,093,508p—resumed deceased_. Just seeing this made the viewer upset; he didn't want to accept it and, really, neither did his daughter, who was still beside him. His daughter buried her head into his shoulder at the sight of the words _presumed deceased_ then started crying. He clicked the tv off, then placed the remote at his side, then turned towards his daughter. He started comforting her; although he wasn't crying on the outside, he was on the inside.

He'd do the full-blown crying thing in private a little later on... like a man.


	2. Chapter 2

Her son and granddaughter weren't the only ones in the house to see the program last night; she, along with her husband, and six of their eight children, had seen it too. Like with her granddaughter, she, and her two program-present daughters, had also broke down at the segment's conclusion. The reporters, and the organizers of the program, had done their job; they had done the interviews, but they hadn't taken any footage, or even concerned themselves with the emotional aspects of most the ones that they had interviewed—her son had been the only one that they had really concerned themselves with on the emotional aspects of what they had been doing the program on.

She had seen her son's brother and grandfather conducting themselves in a near-perfect professional way; no emotion had been expressed by them, they had just answered the questions presented to them in a sort of stone-like way. No act on the reporters' parts had been done to get the two men to show any form of emotion. Her son had also shown professionalism, but he had added emotion into his interviews; his expression of his emotions had made his interviews look more real... not like he was reading cards or being an actor.

Like the rest of them, it looked like her son had also been affected by the program; she couldn't be sure but, after leaving the room that she and most of her family were in when the program was aired, she could swear that she had seen her son propped over the vanity in one of the upstairs bathrooms—his back was hunched; his hands were gripping the edge of the sink; his goggled glasses were half-neatly nestled in their dark green leather case, which had been placed askew to the sink's dials... Before the door to the room, that she had found him in, was shut, she had seen that he was looking down and that his shoulders were moving back and forth; a sob had just been heard from within the room when the door was shut on her.

With her son being a man, one of good breeding, and of good physical, mental, and emotional control, she had left him be; sometimes, the act of being a mother was hard. Sometimes, a mother had to leave their children alone, so they could deal with and come to terms with their emotional scars. Instead of rushing to the bathroom, then ripping the door open, then going in to comfort him, she had turned to go back to the room that her family was in. She had understood what he was going through; watching that program, seeing the interviews, and, lastly, seeing the photographs, with the last one having _Presumed Deceased_ underneath it, had hit him hard. Sixteen hundred years. One thousand, six hundred years of searching planet after planet; of handing out and putting up fliers; of conducting speeches and interviews; of doing bulletin after bulletin through radio and television... they hadn't found or heard a thing. It was like Angel Irene, and her sons, had fallen off the face of the Universe.

He had checked Earth; his Goblin army had been sent into the shields. Orders to drag each and every female human who had red hair out from the shields had been given; he had looked through hundreds of red-haired woman—tall and short; petite; pear-shaped, apple-shaped, thin as a rail; redhead's with brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes, gray eyes; and redhead's with all sorts of skin complexions, from deathly pale to darkly tanned... he had looked through all of them before shaking his head then giving the order for them to be released.

After a hundred years, he left Earth to search other planets. Other galaxies. He had missed so much; he didn't have to conquer to bring in any cash, the Andromeda, Vaisha, and Bula Galaxies were bringing him in so much that he was guaranteed rich for life. He had missed two siblings being born, two cousins being born, a great-nephew being born... birthdays, holidays, special events. Everyone else in the Surfeit clan had gone back to their lives. Had given up. Had risen the white flag. It was just him and his sister, her oldest daughter, remaining of the Surfeit's... it was just them Surfeit's who were still looking for Angel and her sons. She couldn't be happier or prouder of her two older children, or of her four younger children, who had pitched in as well in trying to find Angel and her sons. She was sure that Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer were all just dusted memories to a majority of the Surfeit clan now; just bad memories. which had been swept to the back of their minds... piled up and nearly forgotten. Only brought up when someone asked about them then forgotten soon after they and their stories were told.

"Morning Efagti," she said when her oldest son from her second marriage walked into the kitchen.

"Morning ma," Efagti replied. When she turned to look at him, she noted that he was still a bit groggy; with her knowing her children, and their habits, as well as she did, she knew that it might take him ten or fifteen minutes more before being fully awake.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

"Not really," her son replied.

"Breakfast in twenty, are your brothers and sisters up yet?" she asked. His voice, she noted, had a heavy hint of depression in it; she hoped that some griddled pancakes, chicken, and a good-sized helping of eggs would cheer him up.

"Think so. I know Amadh is." Efagti replied.

The child that she had just spoken to had been given the name of Efagti Izorot Ubalki immediately after birth; he was the oldest of her and her husband's children—he looked very much like his father. The tight skin that was worn over the muscle, tendon, and bone of his body was a dark blue color; the large, oval-shaped eyes, that looked out from his face, were a silverish bronze color—the likes, of which, he had gotten from his father. The design of his body was really the only thing that set him apart from his father; he didn't only have muscle on his chest, back, and arms but also on his lower body too. Her son had gotten all of this from working the farm—from working the animals; holding the mini horses so his father could give them their shots, or trim their hooves; from leading the bigger horses to their sheds; from heaving and then tossing heavy bales of hay from one place to another; from toting pails of oats, or other animal feed; from helping when shearing time came around for the sheep and Almas; from milking the cows and goats; and from helping with the fields when harvesting time came around.

Her sons and daughters from her second marriage had been raised differently than her two older children from her first marriage; while her oldest son and daughter had been raised to conquer planets and galaxies—to be evil, and to spread terror—, Efagti and his siblings had been raised to be respectful, hardworking, and gentle. Curiously, even though her oldest son and daughter had been raised to be hard conquering, evil, and terrorsome, they had also gotten a good dollop of the respectful, hardworking, and gentle genes.

She went back to making breakfast after saying hello to her son; the act of pouring enough pancake mix into the pan, then flipping it a few times after it cooked a bit before taking it out, then sprinkling brown sugar on top before adding a swirl of strawberry jelly on top of that, was a perfectly natural one for her. The first pancake that was put on the plate was joined by three more; she added some griddled chicken, then a better than decent helping of country fried eggs, to the plate's side after placing the pancakes on it. She was giving the plate to Efagti when two more of her children entered the kitchen.

"Smells good, mama." her second son from her second marriage said. "Your cooking alone wakes me up in the morning."

"Thank you Amadh." she said. She placed a plate, that was a near perfect duplicate of the one that Efagti had, down, in front of Amadh; after doing that, she returned to the stove.

"Blaiga and Qeeta will be down soon." Phaggo said. "Fussing over the bathroom, last I saw."

"Bathroom fussing should be made into a tv show," Amadh said. "It's comical how girls will fight over the mirror, and the hair brush."

"We will all be alive tomorrow as long as they don't show what you do in the bathroom." Efagti said as his mother placed a plate in front of Phaggo.

Amadh Azuknor Ubalki was the comical one in the family; he typically turned on the jokes when someone was down, but he also had a tendency to open his mouth at any odd time. Like Efagti, he looked most like his father; his skin, which, like his brother's, was pulled tight over his body, was also a dark blue color. The almond-like structure of his eyes had, without a doubt, come from his father, but their color hadn't come from him—the pure silver color of his eyes had come from her. Along with being tall, he had a well-muscled top half—his chest and arms were well-muscled while his lower half was slender and graceful in appearance.

Her ex-husband, DuruVile Surfeit, had come very close to roughing this child of hers up two thousand years ago; the man, who had a too-serious approach to life, had seen wrong in her son's comical nature... he had come close to beating him up because of his tendency to joke and make the people around him laugh. Although she and her husband nurtured the comical nature of their son they did tend to get somewhat annoyed by it—instead of being loud in insulting him, and instead of hurting him physically, they got control of him by using a normal tone of voice during the expressing of their minds on what he was either saying or doing.

As was natural, her two sons were dressed differently. Efagti was wearing a pair of blue pants, the likes of which had a black belt around their waist; the shirt that he was wearing, which had a black and green checker design to it, was tucked into his pants; the brown boots, that were on his feet, were a little scuffed up, but they weren't dirty or dusty. Amadh was wearing a pair of jean overalls, brown boots, and a brown and green checkered shirt; he was to tend the animals that morning while his father and brother took his half-brother out for a little fresh air.

Phaggo Kokub Ubalki, her thirdborn son from her second marriage, had also inherited his father's dark blue skin; it was stretched over his body gracefully—thanks to his skin having a feminine appearance to it, Amadh sometimes joked about him actually being a girl in disguise. His large, oval-shaped, silver-colored eyes had come from her; the gentle look that was in his eyes said that he was calm, cool, and collected—which was very true; he did have a calm, cool, and collected demeanor. He'd not hurt a flea, much less start a fight. This son of hers was two thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-four years old—very young; he still had while to go before becoming a full grown adult. He was wearing a white t-shirt and green pants, the latter of which had a brown belt around its waist, and brown shoes.

She was just placing two more plates down on the table when two of her three daughters walked into the kitchen; her youngest son, who seemed a bit cranky that morning, followed behind them a few seconds later.

"My bill's the same, right?" QeetaVile asked after her mother placed a plate in front of her.

"Yes dear, no bill at all." she replied with a warm smile.

"Just keep your buns in order," Amadh said. His arm was raised; his index finger was pointed at the hamburger buns that were hanging from the hook that was next to the bread rack. "Get it? Buns in order?"

"Even at eight in the morning you still find the jokes to make us smile." QeetaVile punched her brother in the shoulder.

"Ow! Ma, call the law enforcement! I'm filing for domestic!" Amadh faked crying.

"You're a comic act and a half." Blaiga said. With the exception of the toddler, everyone at the table laughed.

Blaiga Sarewelba Ubalki, her first daughter from her second marriage, could well of been Phaggo's twin—she and he looked very alike! Her daughter was two thousand, six hundred, and fifty-seven years old; very young still, about seventy-seven years younger than her older brother. Like her brothers, she mostly resembled her father; she had dark blue skin, that was very feminine in design, and large, oval-shaped eyes—like Amadh, the silver color of her eyes had come from her. She was wearing a dark green dress that had no designs on it—her dress covered her fully; no hint of leg, or crease of breast, could be seen on her. The slip-on shoes, that were on her feet, matched her dress perfectly. Up to five hundred and ten years ago, she had been her only daughter by Cheshire; Blaiga now had a younger sister to give her "grief". Despite having a younger sister to be driven crazy by, she still hung out a lot with her and her older half-sister.

QeetaVile Tintissi Surfeit, her only daughter from her first marriage, who was sitting beside her younger half-sister, was much older than Blaiga. Even though she was older than Blaiga, she didn't go around, wearing clothing that showed her parts. QeetaVile, or Qeeta, as she and the rest of her children, and her daughter's friends, called her, was shorter than most everyone that was at the table—she stood just five foot, eight inches; with the exception of Qhuakiz, the others at the table were well over that by several inches. She had long, jet black hair that was braided on the side; like everyone else at the table, she had suction cups on the tips of each of her fingers. Qeeta had small breasts and a petite, pencil-thin like body; she was wearing a purple dress, there were purple slippers on her feet. Her oldest daughter had teal-colored skin and circular-shaped, silver eyes.

Qhuakiz Sluuvo Ubalki, who was just now being "helped" to his chair, was her youngest son at three hundred and ninety-three years of age; he was a typical toddler—cranky when he didn't get his way; emotional at the oddest of times; loud at times when it was both appropriate and in-appropriate to be loud; and, of course, he had a good tendency of leaving his toys and clothes spread all around in the darnedest of places. With his being the youngest, he was one who tended to get both babied around and disciplined the most. He had medium-blue skin and large, oval-shaped, bronze-colored eyes; he was currently four feet tall. He was wearing his favorite pajama outfit, which was a light blue color; there were little sheep and cows all over his outfit. After breakfast, she was expecting for either her or her husband to gather him up; this son of hers would be taken upstairs for a quick bath and then clothing.

Like with Efagti, Amadh, Phaggo, and Blaiga, she and her husband had been thrilled after learning that she had caught pregnant with her two younger children; they loved children and, with her having a husband who was so well-behaved and trouble-free, she enjoyed mothering the offspring that were born to them. She had just finished making two more plates when her husband walked in with their youngest daughter; her only granddaughter walked into the kitchen behind them.

"Getting heavy, Defe." her husband, Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki, said as he placed their youngest daughter in her chair. "Of course," he looked at his wife. "I have you to thank for that. You and your fine country cooking."

"Get it while it's hot." she said as she plopped three plates on the table.

Before looking at her husband, and giving him his first, wife-based, sultry smile, she looked at her youngest daughter. She had been given the name of Defe Tooke Ubalki a few minutes after being born; unlike the rest of her children, she had been a surprise to them—and a very much welcomed one too. Her youngest daughter hadn't had a good night after being put to bed; she had spent a few hours just lying on her back before deciding to get up then go to their bedroom. The question of whether she could sleep with them had been asked, and then answered with a yes; Defe had slept on the side of the bed that she would normally frequent.

Defe had the darkest of blue skin and large, oval-shaped eyes that were a light bronze color; she was the only one of her children with Cheshire to have hair—her daughter's hair was long, blonde in color, and braided on the ends. She stood five foot, two inches—which was tall for her age of five hundred and ten years. Her husband had dressed her that morning before coming down for breakfast; their daughter was wearing a pretty yellow sun dress, which had a white ribbon around the waist that had a white daisy on it. There were yellow penny loafers on her feet. Defe, like Qhuakiz, was groggy. Before grabbing the fork, then getting started on her breakfast, she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

"Daddy will be down soon," her granddaughter, EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, said as she took her place at the table.

"How'd you two sleep last night?" she asked her.

"Decent, for me." her granddaughter replied. "Not so sure about daddy."

Her granddaughter had done a lot of growing up in the last sixteen hundred years; she was mature beyond her years and she looked to have a very strong, interior and exterior shell. Her granddaughter had light blue skin, which had come from her father; the eyes, that looked out from her face, had come from her mother, Bespe—they were green and cat-like; the pupils, that were in their centers, were black. Not only did her granddaughter's eyes look very feminine, they also made her face look very pretty. Like everyone at the table, she had suction cups on the ends of each of her fingers. Her cheek bones were set high on her face; the pretty, light blue hair, that her granddaughter had, ran all the way down her back—her bangs, which were currently braided, were a different color than the rest of her hair; they were a right pretty, medium-purple color, which contrasted quite well with the color of the rest of her hair.

EshalVile, or Eshal, as everyone called her, was wearing a red dress—the likes, of which, fit her very loosely. Her perky breasts were just barely able to be seen. There were red, slip-on shoes on her feet; the ruby strand necklace, that was hanging from around her neck, really brought out her looks. Eshal was her father's only daughter and child through his first marriage; like the program had said, she was the adopted daughter of Angel Irene, the woman who had gone missing one thousand, six hundred years ago.

"You look beautiful this morning, Ashaklar." Cheshire said as he went to give his wife a hug.

"Thank you, you don't look so bad yourself." Ashaklar said to her husband.

Ashaklar took her seat at the table; there was a plate in the microwave for her oldest son—thanks to the microwave having a built-in system in it that kept anything that was put in it warm, the contents, that were on that plate, would be kept warm until it was retrieved. After hugging her, then telling her good morning, her husband of sixty-one thousand, six hundred years took his seat at the other end of the table; he sat at the head of the table because that was what he was, the head of their family.

Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki was her second husband—and would remain the only husband that she would ever have, she hoped. He was a tall man, standing at six foot, three inches; his skin was both leather tough and a dark blue color. The eyes, that looked out from his face, were almond-shaped and bronze in color; he had inherited one of the ailments that most in their species had—thanks to the photo sensitivity of his left, he wore a goggled monocle, which she personally thought made him look even more handsome.

He had a lot of muscle on his arms, back, and chest; the rest of him was slender. Before heading down to work on breakfast, she had watched him dress in a pair of dark brown formal pants and a light brown, long sleeve, button down shirt; the black vest, the likes of which had black ties on it, and the brown boots that he was also wearing had been put on after she left the room. There was a gold chain running from the left breast pocket of his vest; it ran to the pocket that was on the left side of her husband's pants—she didn't need to know what was held on the end of that chain; her husband was an avid snuff chewer. Even though he chewed snuff, he did, on occasion, smoke—usually whenever he was in a stressed out state or when a special occasion was going on.

Her husband was a good man. A patient and understanding man. A good man to his children, and a good man to both his stepchildren and to his step-granddaughter. He had never hit, insulted, abused, or spoken badly of anyone; he was respectful and caring and she loved him so much for that. Her first husband had been the exact opposite of her current one. After taking her husband's physical appearance, and outfit, in, she took her fork up then started eating. She had just put a helping of eggs in her mouth when her oldest child walked into the kitchen.

"In the microwave, Tazzy." she said when her oldest son stopped after entering the kitchen.

It was the off-balance walk, and his mumbling under his breath, that told her that her oldest, and only, son from her first marriage hadn't slept much last night. She watched as her son took his plate from the microwave; after taking the plate from the appliance that it had been in, her son walked it over to the table, which became full-up of her family after he took his place at it. An eerie silence fell over the table after he sat down; even though the need to open her mouth, to speak to her family, and, possibly, voice her opinion on the program that had been shown last night, was grand, she said nothing after the whole of her family was at the table.

The one who had just joined them for breakfast had light blue skin; like everyone else at the table, he had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head that had two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it. The eyes that looked out from her son's face were large, oval-shaped, and silvery in color; again, like everyone else at the table, he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers. He was the only one at the table to be wearing a pair of goggled glasses—unlike everyone else, he had inherited the severe form of photo sensitivity from her; he was forced to wear his glasses whenever he went outside. This son of hers, who had been given the name of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, but who went by plain Tazir by his family and friends, was wearing a burgundy tuxedo—the jacket, of which, sported a long tail on the back, which trailed the floor whenever he was up and about—and matching shoes. He had a burgundy tie around his neck; the white shirt that he was wearing had gold buttons going down its front. Her son, after taking his seat at the table, pushed the belled cuffs of his shirt up into his jacket before eating—she was glad that he had done this; the ends of his shirt were long... they could well of gotten dirty, greasy, and sticky if left out while he was eating. Her son had a burgundy vest over his shirt that had matching ties on it.

Her son was one who liked to dress on the elegant side; he liked showing his status in the Universe—it wasn't his attire that attracted the attention of reporters, documentors, and authors though; it was his looks and the fact that he was a son of DuruVile Surfeit... and, of course, the fact that he was the conqueror of the Vaisha Galaxy, the Andromeda Galaxy, and the Bula Galaxy. His title of Conquering Comet, which he had acquired after conquering the rest of the Andromeda Galaxy, and the record that he had gained after conquering the Bula Galaxy, were two other things that grabbed the attention of others.

"Poor thing." she thought after he started eating his breakfast.

Ashaklar, who's maiden name was Zoopray, knew that it wasn't just his lack of sleep that was making him so quiet and depressed that morning—it was a combination of things. The program, that was tops on the list of things that were getting him down; the treatment that he had gotten from his father the day before, then having his older half-brother sweep in with his say on things on how he should "give it up", was the rest of what had him down.

Her oldest son hadn't had as good of a raising as her and Cheshire's children had; along with being beaten with sticks, whips, and his father's hands, he had also had to endure plenty of verbal abuse. Although the abuse had made for one fine man, who had learned the tricks on how not to use that sort of treatment on ones who were far younger than he, it had left him somewhat vulnerable.

Unlike his older, half-brother, he didn't possess the physique that a body builder had; instead, he had inherited a slimmer body build—which, she fully thought and believed, had more than enough muscle on it. There was quite a lot of muscle on his chest, arms, and legs; his backside was also teeming with muscle. Unlike his brother, who was scar-less from receiving great treatment and raising from their father, he had a body full of scars, which were more focused on his back, arms, and legs; he had slight scarring on his front as well—most of the scarring that he had on him had been given to him by his father... her horrid ex-husband.

Her son had gotten stronger after his wife disappeared; he had gotten stronger physically, but, mentally and emotionally, he was half there. He was like half a person without his wife and their sons. She felt such sorrow for him; she and her family had helped all they could... they were still helping him in trying to find his wife and sons. Their helping wasn't because they wanted him to be back to his old self—while they wanted him to be happy, and back to his old self again, they also wanted Angel and her sons back as well. They, as was natural, had grown attached to them; even though they had barely been able to get to know the two's two younger children, they had also grown attached to them.

"The threat of being taken from her young was what caused this. His threat of taking her from her children had caused her to run again..." she thought before forcing herself to go on with the chore of eating her breakfast.

Within ten minutes, everyone was done with eating; the dishes were piled up in the sink then they went off to do as they either wanted to do or were suppose to do that morning. Three of the men in the house did nothing of what was usually done after breakfast was consumed; as her husband left the kitchen with their oldest son and with her oldest son from her first marriage, she was suddenly thrust into feeling the waves of her anger, which was directed towards KurukVile Surfeit and the rest of the Surfeit clan.

Her son's older half-brother had pushed her son to do the interviews, and he had also pushed to have the program aired on the eve before the day that Family Week—a holiday in the Universe that everyone celebrated—started on. Now, because of that damn program being aired on the night of the eve of Family Week, she was afraid that her son would be a mess throughout the holiday. KurukVile Surfeit, along with his and her son's father, and their grandfather, ShaamVile Surfeit, had made a point in having the program aired on that specific night to try to punch some sense into Tazir.

"It did something alright—it's caused him to be even more depressed." she thought. From the feeling that was coming from Eshal, who was standing beside her, helping her wash the dishes, she knew that it had also caused her to be depressed too.

Ashaklar Ubalki, formerly Ashaklar Surfeit and, before that, Ashaklar Zoopray, growled inside; her hatred over what the Surfeit clan had intended to do to her son, in trying to break his spirit and drive, was great. After two minutes of inner growling happened, she stopped doing the dishes; she told herself to get a grip on herself, and on her emotions, before returning to doing what she had previously been doing. Her granddaughter said nothing over the break that she took to get control of herself.


	3. Chapter 3

The click-clack of hooves filled his ears; he was momentarily distracted from his thoughts, which mostly revolved around the depressed one that was in the wagon behind him. Riding into town on one his wagons, having one of his homebred horses pulling him along, always made his feelings of depression evaporate, and it also cheered the ones who were with him up as well; at the moment, this trek to town was only doing half of its usual done job. He had forgotten his depression, and his son was giving off an excited energy, but his stepson was still as gloomy as ever.

Efagti was talking a mile a minute. Topics such as the day's planned activities; about what they were going to do in town; about the town's church, which was over a million years old, but which still looked no more than a hundred years old; the markets, with their brightly colored stands and stalls all set up, and with their vegetable and fruit carts sending out all sorts of good smells into the atmosphere; and, of course, the girls were streaming from his mouth. His oldest son had never married; for one who was forty-seven thousand, five hundred, and fifty-nine years old, this might catch some as a bit odd. Even though his son wasn't married, or showed an interest in finding someone to marry and then make a family with, he was straight—he did like to indulge in looking at the ladies whenever he was out of the house and he also liked spending time with a lady or two every couple of months. Efagti wasn't the only child of his that wasn't married; he had two grown children, both of the male gender, who weren't married—unlike the man who was responsible for the depressed wreck that was in the back of his wagon, he wasn't going to push or force anyone in his family to get married, or to have children, or to move out of the house.

Since he was forever—forever to live, and forever to sire sons and daughters with his wife, should she want to continue having children with him, of course—he was in no hurry for any of his get to find a partner or have children. If it comes, he had said so many times to his friends, it comes; I'll be with them every step of the way. I'll have their backs and I'll always be around to help them as much possible.

Even though he had chores back home to do, there were a few things that needed to be gotten for the pantry—his wife needed produce for her cooking, and spices to spiff up her culinary dishes. He also had a mind to get her something pretty while in town as well. He knew his son was going to help out with the shopping—er, somewhat—but he wasn't sure on what his stepson in the back would be doing after they reached town. After getting into the driver's seat of his wagon, a feeling had come over him; Tazir might just be heading into town with him and Efagti for a different reason—possibly, to go to church, or to find some bench in a park, or some area that was clear of foliage, to sit on and think his thoughts in private. If Tazir did one of those two things, or did something else, he wouldn't stop him. The man was an adult; he had no control, or say, over what he did with his life.

It took about an hour before they reached the town of Baf-az—an old town that was nearing a million and a half years old, which had small, medium, and tall buildings, produce carts and stands, and two churches in it. He drove into one of the available parking lots after reaching the town, then dismounted the wagon, then tied his two horses to a post, then gave them a pat on the rear, then turned. His son had already left the wagon; his stepson exited the wagon from the opposite side that Efagti was standing by—just as he had figured he'd do, he went west, towards the business part of town.

"Leave him be," Cheshire said when he saw Efagti's mouth open. His son was gearing up to say something to TazirVile's backside when he spoke to him. "He has his rights, as do we all."

"I worry of him, Pop." Efagti said. "He really went down after last night."

"It'll take a while before he's back to being what he was." Cheshire said. "Best to just leave him alone to do so."

TazirVile Surfeit, a man who had seen a lot in his one hundred and fifty-seven thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-three years of living, went down the yellow-colored sidewalk slowly. His hands were in his pockets; he was deep in thought—like his mother suspected, it was true that the program had messed him up; thanks to that damn program, he hadn't been allowed to get any sleep last night. He had thought about the program, and about the reporter's questions, the photographs that had been shown at the program's conclusion, and then, finally, about his brother and father all during the hours that he was suppose to be sleeping.

Blast them, he thought; it wasn't until last night that he had put two-and-two together on why Galosa Spiklo had contacted him—they had called her; had put the idea about doing a program on his wife and sons in her head. If not for them, she would never of called to see about getting the program green-lit for shooting. They had gotten her to schedule, re-schedule, and then re-re-schedule an appointment with him to ask if he'd participate; after telling the broad that he wouldn't, he had gotten some calls from them. _You do it, this is closure_ ; _this is what we all need_ ; and _this is what you need and you damn well know it_ , that was what his father, grandfather, and brother had said after calling him.

He had done the interviews, and the program, but he hadn't gotten any closure from it; all it had done was spark up the old depression and the old anger that he felt inside himself.

His brother had said that he had grown very attached to Angel; well, him giving up on the search was a fine damn way to show how attached he was. He felt betrayed. He felt like everyone—Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar—had been betrayed and he also felt like his youngest son's memory had been tarnished. How one could say that they were so attached or close to someone and then abandon that person in their time of need, or after they disappeared, was beyond him; it was an act of betrayal to him—a serious stab in the back. _Oh, I love you. I'm so attached to you. I'll search for you forever... oh, we've searched long enough; we've filled in the death certificates and they're official now so there's no reason to do the searching anymore_ —pretty words... all pretty words and, quite depressingly, his family had expressed them pretty words in that program last night.

His nephew had been the one to fill the death certificates for Angel and her oldest son out; he had done this about two hundred years after his wife and sons disappeared... little to no shed of tear, or remorse, had been shown by him when he had been filling in them two certificates—it was like the man was enjoying the fact of putting the ink on them, which thoroughly sickened him. His father had been the one to fill out the death certificates on his sons—he had done it in the exact same fashion that Vile had and, like the big jerk that he was, he had done his damnedest to push them on him. _Accept it, Boy,_ he had said, _get on with your life. Father other children with another woman; forget about Angel, Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer. They're in the past now; no need for them to be thought of in the present or future_.

His fist had caught his father rather well in the jaw after his fifth attempt in trying to push the death certificates on him was done; the man, before turning to leave him be, had given him a long, anger-filled, stare. _Good riddance_ , he had thought after the man turned to leave; _don't come back. I don't need you_. He hadn't had much contact with his half-sisters the past three hundred years; they always brought up the old, when-are-you-going-to-give-it-up shit, which he didn't need. He had wondered if they knew what the word love meant. The true meaning, not just the painted picture of the word, but its actual trueness. You don't give up on the ones you love; you don't say that they're gone when they could still be alive and you don't forget them when they're gone. You keep on loving and you keep on remembering! He had come close to shouting that at Whosla once; with a lot of effort, he had kept control of himself. He had just said a few words to her before hanging up.

To be honest, he hadn't spoken much to his older half-brother, father, grandfather, or nieces and nephews over the last three hundred years either; they were always telling him to get over it. That she's gone and that she won't ever come back. They had gone back to their lives; with the exception of his grandfather, who was still single, they had made more children.

Betrayal, they had shown it and they were still showing it.

He stopped at a shop that served pastries; he sat at the closest table that he came upon then he buried his head in his hands. _So what if anyone saw the conqueror and ruler of the Vaisha, the Andromeda, and the Bula galaxies cry_ , he thought; _so what if a picture of me crying my eyes out is flashed in the midday paper and so what if my father calls me a sissy afterwards_. He felt so empty without Angel. So hollow. So incomplete. Several waitresses noticed him; even though they saw him, they didn't come forward to ask him what he wanted to order or to ask if he was alright—that damn program had attracted an audience of over a quadrillion when it aired; everyone on Zeta Ren had seen it, and everyone who saw him took silent pity on him, knowing full well that he was upset over what he had seen on tv last night. He had recorded it... it was back at his mother and stepfather's residence. It was all nicely stashed away in his suitcase. He'd put it with all the other little articles that he had—the ones that had mentions on the search, on his wife's disappearance, on the births of his sons... everything that had his wife's, and their sons', names on it had been collected over the years.

If one had suddenly asked him if he was keeping that stuff because he was sick upstairs he would of reeled back to deliver the answer, which would of been a punch in the face—he kept it all because he loved each and every one of them. He kept it purely out of hope! If he found Angel and their sons, three of whom were his own, with the oldest being his adopted son, he'd have something to share. _My love,_ he'd say, _this room is dedicated to you and the boys. I never gave up hope, I never gave up my love for you or our sons. My dedication is my love for you_ — _the purest kind of love that you'll ever know._ Also, if he found them one day, he'd have something to rub in the faces of the ones who had said that it couldn't be done. _You see this you fuckers,_ he'd say, _I never gave up. I never stopped caring or loving or being dedicated to her or our sons. You don't give up on the ones you love; learn from this and, maybe, one day, you'll grow up._

He reached into the left back pocket of his pants a few minutes after taking a seat at the table; the white kerchief, that had burgundy embroidery around the sides, and a T and a S—his initials—, stitched in real gold in the center, out. He then wiped his face with it.

"Come along Reezal," he heard a woman say. "We're going to be late for your appointment if you keep stopping like you are."

"I'm sorry ma," a youngster replied. "I'm having to duck into shady areas—remember, I can't see when the sun's out."

The voice-type that the woman used was very nearly missed by him; a voice that had sounded very eerily similar to the one that he had just heard had been used by his wife... he had heard a voice-type like that of which the woman had just used sixteen hundred years ago—right up to when his wife and sons disappeared from his home and life. Over the last sixteen hundred years, he had forgotten it—no, no! He hadn't forgotten it! It had just evaporated from his memory.

The voice that he had just heard was a strong one... a young one, but one that had experience behind it. It was a voice that was sweet and honey-smooth like. It was the type that made the heads of men turn—the type that made the spines of certain men grow chilled. He looked up in time to see something that he had never expected to see on the planet that he was on; Zeta Ren was in the Zeta Reticuli system—a galaxy that was thirty-nine lights years in human talk, but which was twelve parsecs in everyone else's... it was quite a distance from the humans, who had yet to get out of the phase of driving more than just energized cars. The humans hadn't even dropped the tires from their cars, or started driving the type of vehicle that hovered on air instead of relying on the surface of some road to drive on. Their attempts in traveling beyond their planet had been put to a complete stop a very long time ago; there were very few explanations to what he was seeing—a human walking about on Zeta Ren?

He blew his nose then placed his hanky in its case; he wasn't going to put his snot in his pocket... he wasn't going to let the pockets of his pants get icky, gross, and disgusting with the matter that came from the orifice that was his nose. After placing the appropriately contained kerchief back in the pocket that he had gotten it from, he stood then went in the direction that he had seen the woman go in. He went in a straight line for a bit before stopping and then turning a corner. After turning the corner, he stopped—there she was and, Boy George, was she a beauty!

Even though she was a beauty, it wasn't that that got his attention; the woman was tall, about five foot, seven inches to be exact... she looked quite a deal like his very much missed wife. The woman was wearing a pair of faded denim jeans; the blue t-shirt, that she was wearing over her top half, had a pocket on its left breast. The pair of faded blue tennis shoes, that she had on her feet, looked to be nearing the end of their run. It was an automatic thing that he began comparing the woman to his wife; even though she was the same height as Angel, that wasn't what got him to wonder if what he was looking at wasn't her. Besides the gorgeous locks of fiery red hair, which was so bright it cast a red glow on the buildings and carts and stands that she walked by, he also saw that she had emerald-green eyes. Even though she turned to face him, she was fast in turning back around; he wasn't able to see if she had a golden-yellow ring around a pair of black pupils or not.

"She's forever young, but that might not be her. Look at the kid that she has with her. He looks to be in his mid-thousands, maybe a bit older or younger. The only son that I can think of that we had that's that age is Lazeer, and he's gone." he thought.

Like the program had said, Lazeer had been a sickly baby. It had been a surprise, a grand surprise, that his wife had caught pregnant—despite everyone's betting, card playing, calling, and supposing, he had known that Angel's fourth child was his right from the start of the pregnancy.

Long before the happy news of the pregnancy was made known to everyone, Angel took a trip to her father's place, which was located on Gamma Vile. She had been clinging to the hope that her father would turn around, and she had also been clinging to the hope that her visit would cause him to turn a different leaf in how he regarded Lhaklar and Hazaar. Sadly, her hope had backfired on her; instead of being welcomed warmly, and having a chance to speak with and get some things straight with her father, and get him to stop regarding Lhaklar and Hazaar so badly, she had been grabbed and then victimized—his nephew, for five of the days and nights that she had been at his place, had raped her. All during his cruel treatment of her, he had been saying that he was giving her the punishment that she had been needing to get for years. Upon returning to him, she had been a battered, bruised, and sore mess—he had been quite surprised that, despite her ordeal, she had still retained her spirit; what she had gone through had been horrible and not needed!

His nephew's "punishment" had been base-given on something that Angel had done a hundred years earlier; she had tricked the man into dropping the curse—which had made her unable to have children by him—that he had placed on her after she had given birth to Lhaklar. She had simply turned on the charm... had done some flirting, and had shown herself off. Her work had paid off better than well; she caught pregnant immediately after the curse was removed from her—but not in the way that a normal pregnancy was gained, though. He and she had sex a week after she caught pregnant; she had taken a trip to the Sperm Ward—a top security building on Gamma Vile that carried all of the known sperm samples of males from the M-51 Galaxy's prominent families—to make a personal withdrawal of five vials of his semen right after the curse was removed from her. A few hours after his nephew did the counter-curse, she impregnated herself; one vial of his semen had done the trick in getting the result that she had been hoping to get. He had found this out after asking her how she had gotten pregnant; the medical table had said that she was two weeks along, and he had been only a week returned from taking his daughter to see her grandfather—he had been having his problems with family as well; he had been keeping his eye on his father whenever he either came over to see the children or whenever the children went over to see him. Instead of beating around the bush, or throwing a lie at him, she had given him a prompt and truthful answer... she had even told him to search her memory at the end—he had looked a little non-believing at the time, which was why that little permission had been granted to him. Regardless of the way that she had gotten pregnant, artificial insemination or natural, he had accepted that she was pregnant with his next child. He had started looking forward to the birth of their second child right after being told the scoop on how her pregnancy was gained.

Her deception had made his nephew—her father—right angry; even though Vile had swore revenge on them for their trickery, he hadn't done any curses or spells or charms on them. During the week that she had been with his nephew she had been told time and again that part of her punishment was because of her deceiving him into removing the curse from her—which, ironically, she had also been there to apologize for.

Yes, like the program had said, Hazaar had been said to be a girl—the program had completely dropped the detail on how this was discovered, though.

It had been mutually decided between he and his wife that the gender of their unborn children would be kept secret—to keep what their children were a surprise. During the five-month check-up on her pregnancy, he had gotten excited; four hundred years of trying their best to be careful... of trying to not get pregnant, had come to this. A child. A child had finally been conceived after the curse was dropped. His hand had jerked at the last minute and the thought-to-be genitals were exposed; he had apologized, had said that his excitement over finally having a new little one running around in his house had caused him to lose control of his arm. His wife had given him a look, then had nodded her head, then had said that since he had already gone and exposed the gender of the child that he might as well go on and confirm it. The screen had shown no male parts. No scrotum or penis; no nothing had been seen on the fetus, which was why they had said that their unborn child was a girl instead of a boy.

Plans had been made, a name had been chosen, then they had waited. Eshal had been ecstatic; she had wanted a sister badly. She had been going around, saying that she was going to be the best big sister that she could be. He had been damn proud of her. When Angel entered her eighth month he started sending out the invites; she had gotten him to skip her father and older half-siblings at first, then, at the near-last second, she had changed her mind. Nearly eighty people had shown up for the birth—quite a lot but, thankfully, his mansion was spacious, with over a hundred rooms not being used or occupied by any living being. No one had gotten in the way during the wait for her to have the baby. When Angel went into labor, then gave birth, he had been ecstatic. PhloowaVile Epa Surfeit had been shouted no sooner than the baby had been born.

"Uh, Lad," his grandfather, who had just walked over after he had been given the scissors to cut the cord with, had said after his thought-to-be-daughter was placed on his wife's chest. "you better look again. I think that's a boy."

The scissors had been given back then one of the legs of their newborn was raised; when he had seen that instead of a girl—a PhloowaVile Epa Surfeit, who would run around, bugging her mother to bake cookies, brownies, cakes, and other sweets, and to dress her up in all sorts of dresses or other feminine wears, and who would bug her brother's ape-shit with her girly antics and be the little sister that Eshal wanted—he had found that his and Angel's newborn had a penis.

Woops, not a girl after all. We don't have a Phloowa, my love. We have a brand, spankin' new baby boy here. Everyone had laughed; his nephew had given a frustrated sigh after looking up at the ceiling. After the surprising re-gendering occurred, everyone had asked what their now known-to-be son was going to be named. That had been difficult; it was a good thing that the baby's chamber hadn't been painted pink—that would of been funny to have a son in a pink room. Noftagan had been thought of as a name for their new son, so had Epajik, Tureer, Zeeuh, and Gragsne; in the end, it had been his father who had given the idea of the name that would be given to their son—he had looked up at the ceiling before saying _Hoozah, thank the Gods! I have a new grandson!_ His wife had given the man a long stare before saying the word that he had said—only, she had modified it some.

Hazaar was what she had said. A good name—good, catchy, and also strong; he had liked it right from the start and so had everyone else in the room. HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit it had been.

The birth of his youngest son had been one of the more frightening births that he had ever experienced. He remembered it well; he had been outside, getting a mare of his bred, when his wife screamed—her scream had been so loud that he had been able to hear her even while being outside; Homsi, his Most Trusted Goblin butler, who had been under his house at the time, indulging in the rare activity of staying in his and his family's quarters instead of going to work, had also heard it. He had left the two horses in the care of two Goblins, who had run up to assist him after hearing that he was to breed some of his horses that day, then he had gone inside to see what was going on. A puddle of blood, and yellow water, had been on the stairs right between her feet; his wife had been shaking and shivering violently and she had also been crying and wailing _no_ again and again. He had taken her up then he had rushed her to Cawanuuk Hospital—his drive to the hospital had warranted him three tickets, which he had been a bit slow in paying off.

Instead of having a smooth delivery, Angel had gone through a difficult one; the doctors had wanted to do a Cesarean on her—which she had decreed to not have done on her. After his wife started insisting on not having a Cesarean done, she had been prepped for a natural birth. Seven hours after the water fell, their third son was born. They had named him quickly, thinking that if he went, he should, at least, have a name. The name of LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit had been said, and then swiftly written down on a piece of paper, right after he had been born.

Lazeer had been fine on the first couple of hours of his life; healthy and lively, despite being very premature, and he had been drinking his mother's natural milk like a pro. At midnight, his son got sick—he had been having trouble keeping his temperature up, he had stopped drinking his milk, he had been having trouble breathing, and he had gotten an infection. Instead of just lazing around, or just saying for the doctors to let him go, he had gotten the best of doctors to work on his and his wife's newborn—nearly a million dollars had been spent on his youngest son... an amount that he still had no qualms on spending; even though being premature, he had loved his son... he would of spent more than half of his fortune to ensure his life. Lazeer had been placed in a pod; all sorts of tubing had been placed on him—the sort that took waste from him, that gave him milk, and that gave him oxygen and medication. He and his wife had sat beside his pod for three and a half weeks, hoping and praying that he would make it and be okay.

LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, while born tiny, had weighed a lot for his age—a good, healthy, two pounds at birth; he had been a chubby, tiny thing... he and Angel had loved him right off. The policy at the hospital called for a quick holding—the mother first, followed by the father—before the baby was taken to the NICU; Lazeer had stayed with them for just over five minutes before being taken away. Angel had been frantic with fear; she had been so scared that their newborn wouldn't make it and that she'd never see him again and, in truth, so had he. He had comforted her, had held her, had told her that it'd be alright; he had still been doing this when the doctor came in to tell them the chances on their son's survival, which he had said was very slim. The man had said that, if they wanted to give it a try in trying to keep their son alive, they could. They had done it; their son had stayed in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for almost four weeks—the program had goofed on how long he had been in the NICU; it had said two weeks, which was very wrong. The program had also gotten it wrong on who had been in the room with them and their son as well—his father hadn't come and neither had his grandfather; both had been too shocked to come to the hospital. It had been his stepfather and his neighbor and old school friend, Gloar, who had come and gone during the three and a half weeks that Lazeer was in the NICU. After three and a half weeks, the doctors had said for him and Angel to take their son and go home— _spend as much time as you can with him_ , they had said; they had put forth the claim that they had reached the end of what they could do to keep him going. It had been estimated that their son would be dead in less than two days; their son had lived for four months... he had gone way past expectations. He had been thriving! Although they had been overjoyed at their little premature baby making it in life, Angel had been going through her stresses. Besides dealing with a nine hundred and one year old, a six hundred year old, a five hundred year old, a one hundred year old, and a four month old, she had also been dealing with her father.

The program had gotten that part right—she had been told by her father that he was taking her away from it all; from him, Eshal, and from all of her sons. The program had missed the part on his nephew saying that he had agreed to her being taken away from it all—a point that he was more than glad to of not been included in the segment. That had been a great, big lie! He had said nothing of the sort; he had not agreed to have her taken away from everyone and he had also not agreed to have her take a potion that would wipe her memory clean of the past six hundred years. His wife had gone silent on him for three days before disappearing; she had been shocked by his nephew's words. After three days passed, she grabbed their sons then left; she, and they, just disappeared.

So many important details had either been discarded, not talked about, not exposed, or plain just ignored in the program. He was angry at the missed information. A closure for Angel Irene and her sons, Bile Vile, LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit? Not a chance! He was going to keep looking and searching; there was no closure until he found something. Although it pained him to think it, he did think that his youngest son had passed away; he had been so sickly and small... so premature—

"Reezal, we only have four more buildings to go. Get up here." the woman's voice jarred him from his thoughts, and from his walk down Memory Lane.

"Hold on," the youth replied. TazirVile saw that the youth was standing under a hanging tarp; the red sun had come out from behind the clouds, he seemed to be hiding from it.

"Reezal," the woman turned, then went to the hiding youth. "don't worry, I'll get you some help. Tears me up to see you having to hide so much."

"Tears me up to, ma." the youth said. "Wait, what? I'm being torn apart? Mommy! Make the ropes become cut! I want my body all in one piece."

"Even in hiding, you manage to crack a joke."

"Have you known me to not crack a joke?"

"Only when you couldn't talk." the woman replied.

TazirVile stopped; he told himself to get a grip, that the woman was probably the wife of one of the men on the planet—someone who had been kept secret in the house because she was human. There had only been one man who had been foolish enough to meet and then marry a human and that was Pazib Clobor; the marriage had lasted a year before the two went their separate ways.

Humans were said to be dull in comparison to everyone else in the Universe; they were a very low-life, low-minded race. They were violent as well; in the last two thousand, two hundred years, there had been ten normal wars, two World Wars, four continental wars, and two wars that had solely come around because of an oil shortage. If humanity was willing to fight over oil then they were surely of the violent sort and were truly meant to be left alone. His nephew, who owned the planet that the humans stemmed from, even stayed away from them—his reason for doing so wasn't based on their violent ways, though; he stayed away because he couldn't get into their planet's various governments. Although he had conquered the planet, and claimed to own and rule it, he hadn't been able to get into the government systems to change them; it was the shields that were over the planet that were preventing him from doing the government change-overs.

Like the program had said, Angel had been the one to put the shields up; Angel had been a fighter... she had fought the man like hell, but there had been a purpose behind her doing so. All of them shields that she put up on the planet had been erected to keep her blood-thirsty father out and the people who lived on the planet safe. Despite her claim of having human genes in her, she was very different than the humans that were on the planet.

TazirVile looked at the youth that was standing beside the red-haired woman. Tall, about six foot exactly, and still growing; he had a lean, strong body that belied his age. His skin was a periwinkle-blue color; his eyes were circular in shape, and silver in color. What set him off as being the woman's son was his hair—he had a row of brick red hair, that was about two inches wide; it went around the sides and back of his head in a C-like fashion. The boy had no viewable ears on his head; his upside-down, teardrop-shaped head had an O-shaped mouth in it. The kid's face looked to possess a set of holes were a nose would normally be. The boy was wearing a pair of gray pants, that were ripped at the knees, and a netted shirt that looked to be a gray-green color; there was a pair of gray and brown shoes on his feet.

When the clouds drifted over the red sun, the two started off again; TazirVile saw them off, he had an intention to see them disappear before turning and then going to some other location. He saw the two as just random people... a mother and her young son heading to an appointment of some sort that he had no business in concerning himself about. His legs, though, prevented him from doing as he wanted to do; he found himself following them. He sighed, then went on; he let his feet take him where they wanted to take him. As he went along, he put forth the firm idea of turning and then going to some other place in town after seeing where the two were headed.

After five minutes of following, the fiery red-haired mother and her son went into a building; the woman opened the establishment's glass door, which said _Navub Babusa, Optometrist, Eye Care Specialist_ , then gestured for her son to go in. TazirVile sighed when the two entered the building then tried to leave. He took one step from the building then stopped; something was preventing him from walking away from the building... from leaving the two be. With a frustrated sigh, he sat in one of the chairs of a nearby eatery. He waited for the pair to come out.

"Might as well go in and ask Mr. Babusa if I can see the camera footage of the pair." he thought as he waited for them to leave the building. "See about checking into an insane asylum afterwards as well."


	4. Chapter 4

Navub Babusa neither flinched, looked up, or turned around after the bell, that was situated against the interior-facing glass of his establishment's front door, tolled, telling him that someone had come in. With it being the hour that it was, he had yet to get with it; the mass amount of appointments, that he had seen over the last three days, had caught up with him. He had come close to collapsing after stepping foot in the door of his and his family's house yesterday. He had done almost fifty appointments on the first day, forty on the second, and then a further sixty-five on the third; most of his three-day patients had been children, all of whom had come in with their parents, who had wanted their youngs' eyes checked over and then for them to be prescribed a pair of glasses that'd match their eye sensitivity.

Like any other good, or halfway decent, Optometrist, he had all kinds of goggled specks in his building—from the mild pair, which was covered in sun-blocking properties, that took up about three quarters of the lens; to the mildly severe pair, which consisted of the same stuff that the mild pair was made of, but which properties took up half of the lens; and to the severe pair, which was also made of the same sun-blocking properties as the other two glasses, but which were full-made instead of three-quarters or half. His building was stock-full of not just the plain, normal, full variety of specks, he also had all sorts of monocles and contacts in his building too. Unlike some of the big-time, or well-known Optometrists, he didn't just make out a prescription then say for his customers to wait a specific amount of time before coming in to both see what they were to get and to pay for what they had been prescribed; he preferred to have a good inventory around for his customers—this gave him a good reputation, and it also helped his customers.

Most of the people in his profession had more than two educations under their belts; since his parents hadn't been of the well-off sort, he hadn't been given the honor of being sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, or to any of them other fancy schools that taught one how to do magic or specific things that revolved around galactic travel, galactic and planetary conquest, or advanced evil-doing. He had a normal education under his belt; after nearly twenty years of waiting, of busting his can in filling out one form after another, he had been granted the distinct privilege of going to the Academy of Medicine—even though he had been set back a bunch of thousands of dollars for attending that school, he was glad to of gotten the two scholarships for it; ever since reaching his mid-teenage years, he had wanted to get an education to work in one of the many medical fields that were available in the Universe. This desire had stemmed from his inheriting a severe case of P.S.E, or Photo Sensitive Eyes, as it had been called a hundred thousand years ago, but which was now simply called the Special Ailment of the Eyes, or S.A.E, from not one but both of his parents—he had mostly wanted to get an education that revolved around eye-care.

After two hundred years of lugging school books from place to place, and of doing classroom and dormitory assignments, and of doing this test and that test, he had gotten his license; he had started practicing right after graduation. The first ninety years had been spent with him being an assistant, helping some sap who hadn't really cared about the people that he had been seeing and prescribing glasses to; after being in the profession for that long, and having a stuck-up for a boss, he struck out on his own. His first building had been small, a two-room; he had been quite successful after getting that building. After five thousand years of saving up, of scrimping and scraping every spare dollar that he came upon, or made, he bought his first big building. His success after purchasing that building hadn't been as grand as his previous bout; even though the bills had been paid on time, he hadn't had anything to really play with, much less use in keeping the cabinets halfway stocked. He had mostly eaten peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese sandwiches after purchasing that big building. After twenty years of living like this, he sold his big building then got a much more appropriately sized one to work in; thanks to that building's location, things had gone a little more downhill for him.

He had lived the scrimp and save lifestyle, and he had survived on small meals of PB&J and ham and cheese sandwiches, and tv dinners, for about a thousand years before things finally turned around for him; it had been around this time that he had finally gotten the guts to pop the question to one of the women who had come in one day for mild optic trauma—before the question was popped, he and his then-girlfriend, Yoshiah, had dated on and off; even though one or two conversations on marriage had happened, neither he or she had really put any real thought in on what their future as a couple would be like.

One child, a daughter, who had been given the name of Falvia, had been born during the early part of their relationship; the stress of their living arrangements had caused his girlfriend to leave him about a hundred years after their child was born. He had been half a man in them days; even though he had continued working his profession, he had felt himself being only half there in mind, body, and spirit. He had worked this way for three hundred years then something had happened that had brought his full self back—Yoshiah came back. Their relationship had been rekindled, the question on marriage had been asked, they had been married, then they had moved in together.

He hadn't put any thought or concern in on the fact that his new wife had gone and had another child, a son, by a different man during the period that they had been separate—the fool behind his wife's second child had been a real catch, he had been told; he had been physically abusive to Yoshiah and he had also forced her to his bed. This sorry sap of a man, who was really no man at all, had flat-out refused to accept the responsibility of the child that he had helped in creating after said child was born. Yoshiah had put forth the claim that her former partner hadn't wanted to accept the responsibility of their son because of her previous transgressions in being a bit of a "floating leaf"—meaning, because she had had a child by him and because she had had two previous boyfriends before he came along. He had said balls after hearing this then he had taken up the task of being a father figure to not only the child that he had helped in creating but also the child that the so-called man had refused to take responsibility for.

His wife, about ten years after the trip to the alter was made, had given him the suggestion about doing some small-scale advertising on low-cost prescription glasses; he had started his practice at charging $3,199 per goggled glass sold—even then, he had known that his charge was high but, when it came to producing the best of eye-wear, you couldn't charge small prices. A profit did have to be made. The price per glass sold in his establishment had been dropped to $2,100 after that suggestion was made; the decision to take his wife's suggestion on had proved to be a better than good one.

"Why have it so high anyways?" his wife had asked before he had taken her suggestion on. "You're one of the better Optometrists out there; why milk your patients for every penny that they have?"

Neither then or now had he been "milking" his patients; his price back then had been based off what he had been charged by his former suppliers, who had been taking advantage of him and his profession. Ray Block in a goggle lens wasn't cheap, or easy to acquire; the lens had to be exposed to the rays of all of the known suns and stars in the Universe, which was only able to be done after some brave soul took on the job of donning a suit and then having a ship hover him or her close to the suns and stars that's rays needed to be collected. After the lens was exposed to the rays of the known suns and stars of the Universe, a fitting was placed over it; after the fitting was in place, a series of layers were placed on—one, of which, had a drip system built into it, which would keep the eye that was behind the lens moist.

The "brave" souls that he had once worked with, the ones who had done the exposing of his goggled lenses to the rays of the Universe's known suns and stars, had requested a firm payment of $1,600; the ones that he gotten to do the fitting and layering had requested a firm payment of $1000 for their work—this, along with the ridiculous charge that he had been forced to pay for his lenses to be shipped to him, had brought in a profit of nearly $550 per glass prescribed.

Back then, if he saw only twenty patients a day, he would bring home somewhere around four grand, which would only be enough to pay the bills, both the monthly, regular ones and the ones that he had yet to pay, and keep the cabinets around halfway full. Getting the occasional gift for his wife and children, or going out to get a car—which he had desperately needed; at the time, he had been taking the bus or riding a bike to get to work—could not be done at that point in his life.

While the in-flow of patients had been slow at first, he had noticed a change after doing what his wife had suggested; twenty-five patients a day had been the start-off, then, at around the secondth month of his pricing being dropped, he had started seeing somewhere around forty to fifty people come in to get fitted for glasses. He had started bringing in just under eight grand a day come closing, which meant that not only could his substantial bills be paid, and that he and his family could live a little more comfortably, and have more food in the kitchen, but that he could also afford to go out on a spending spree or two per month—pretty much all that he purchased during them spending sprees were for his wife and children; he wasn't one to just up and get something for just himself, he preferred for his family, and their health and happiness, to come over his own. The car had come later—ten years later, to be exact. He had continued to ride the bus, with its questionable lot of passengers, and use a bike until finally deciding to throw half of one week's profit towards a vehicle—the likes, of which, he still had to that day.

Twenty years later, the price was the same, and so were the specks; the customer in-flow had, from time to time, dropped but, for the most part, it had stayed the same. Thanks to the excess customer in-flow that he had experienced in the last three days, he had made $15,200—a damn good profit!

Naturally, there were other Optometrists in the area that he did his practice in; others who had been in the area for far longer than he, and who charged less, but who offered a lesser quality product that needed to be replaced once every one to two years. Over the years, he had learned that that was how some in his profession worked and got their money—from customers having to make frequent appointments to get replacement specks after their old ones fell apart. His goggled glasses, goggled monocles, and goggled contact lenses lasted for ten years; he had a guarantee going on that said that, if what he was offering split, or if the drip system dried up and made the lenses crack, or if the elastic band ripped before the ten-year lifespan was up, a new pair would be given out for next to nothing. The other Optometrists in the area didn't do that; for them, if the specks broke it meant more opportunity to milk the customer for another one to two-plus grand.

When the bell of his door tolled, he nodded his head; the day was just starting, so he was expecting for the in-flow of customers to come filtering in and soon. Business was slower during the holidays; he was expecting to see only twenty to twenty-five patients that day—it was a Monday, and the start of the current holiday, Family Week, started today. He was expecting to only see a small lot of patients that week, thanks to the present holiday that was going on.

"Hello? Hello, is a Mr. Babusa in?" he heard a woman say. "I called him last night, my son has an appointment."

"Sign in, I'll be right with you." Navub Babusa replied. He was looking through the appointment cards, doing a quick count and remembering names.

After the three-day work rush, and having a hundred and fifty-two patients to look after, question, and then fit for glasses, he had been too tired to stay up to watch tv with his wife last night. His wife had said something about staying up a while longer—she had said something about wanting to watch some very important program, which he hadn't really heard much of or expressed much interest in. His two sons and two daughters had already been in bed and asleep by the time he had come in from work; he had eaten a small meal, had taken a shower, had dressed for bed, then had gone to sleep. He had fallen asleep right when the program started; if he had watched the program, he would of noticed that there was something eerily odd about the woman that was in front of him. She was a marvelously beautiful creature; her long hair was a quite vibrant red color—the glow that was coming from her hair was enough to make him want to stare at her more. The eyes that looked out from her face were an emerald-green color; the black pupils, that were in their centers, had a golden-yellow ring around them.

He was quick in looking at the sign-in sheet after the woman did as he had requested of her to do. The woman's name, he was quick in noting, was Ayla Bakerly; her son, Reezal Bakerly, was the one that he was to see for the scheduled appointment. After checking the form that was on the clipboard, he led the two down the hallway to a room that had an eye examining device in it, which hung from the room's ceiling. The room that they entered had a row of cabinets and counters in it; there was a see-through box, that had all sorts of lenses in it, on the far back counter. Two chairs, which were normal in all aspects, were placed on either side of the device. He was quick in taking one of the chairs; he positioned it just before the device before sitting down. The youth took the vacant chair then placed it behind the device. He said not a thing after sitting down.

"Before we do the test, what are his symptoms?" he asked the youth's mother. "How does he act in direct sun or raylight?"

"He shrieks, then begins crying from the pain, then goes blind soon after." the youth's mother replied.

"Both eyes or just one?"

"One—the left."

"To be on the safe side, I'll check both eyes." Navub said as he slid a disc, that had a sample of sunlight on it, into the device. "Look into the holes, you'll see a bright light in three... two... one."

A bright flash of white light went into the youth's right eye; even though the youth blinked his eye, then squinted, he didn't show the typical signs of having any of the known Zetakin eye ailments in that eye. To be on the safe side, he issued the other tests that revolved around some of the other rays from some of the other known suns and stars in the Universe. The youth reacted normally; he blinked, then squinted his eye, but he didn't yell out or push himself away or begin tearing up—which was typical for one in his species who had a mild photo sensitivity.

With that part of the exam done, he went to the other eye; at first glance, this one did look to have a form of his species' ailment to it. The eye was slightly darker than the other; to the naked, untrained eye, the youth looked to have the same color to both of his eyes. Since he was an educated man in this medical field, and since he had been trained to see specific difference in one's eyes, he could tell that something was amiss with the boy's left eye. He slid the first slide into the device, then gave the count-down, then turned the device on. His patient shrieked, then pulled himself back; had there of been no back to his chair, he would of fallen to the floor. The youth shielded his effected eye with his hand; when the boy lowered his hand, Navub saw that there were tears streaming from the eye that had just been tested.

"Does he act like this all the time—when he's out and about on other planets that orbit other stars or suns, does he act like this?" he asked the youth's mother.

"Yes. Poor thing can't go outside at all when the sky's clear and the sun is up and out." the mother replied.

"He has a mild-severe case of P.S.E in his left eye," Navub said. One test was enough; he didn't want to traumatize or hurt the youth anymore by running any further tests. "I can fit him for one goggled glass."

"Before you do," Navub looked at the woman; he had been in the process of getting up to get the kit that had the lens types in it. "what's your price for his glass?"

"Twenty-one hundred, ma'am." he replied. The woman, at once, got a defeated look on her face. "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"My son needs his glass—everywhere we've gone we've been told a price that's over that. Your price is the best that we've gotten, but we can't afford that. Not right now, at least."

He hated—absolutely hated—sending his customers away knowing that they needed the item for which they had come in to be tested for but that they couldn't get because they couldn't afford it. He had seen several customers walk away without the item that they had come in to be tested for; not once had he asked himself, or them, why they had come in in the first place. The same went with his not ever asking why they had wasted his time, or even why there had been no bring-ups of dividing the issue price into affordable payments. He would gladly allow for the ones who came in, who were low on funds, to do a payment arrangement for their specks; he was a man who liked helping people... when he saw his customers walk away without the item that they had come to be tested for he always felt bad.

He did as he always did after hearing that one of his customers couldn't afford what they had come in to be tested for; the top drawer of the nearest counter was opened, he took four bottles of liquid drops out then he undid the plastic seal that was around the cap of one of them. He gave the unsealed bottle to the youth then he held the still-sealed bottles to the boy's mother.

"On the house." he said. "No charge."

"These won't hurt him will they?" the woman asked. Concern, he was quick to note, was heavy on her face. "The last place that we went to gave us drops as well, but I had to pay for them and they burned his eyes something awful."

"Like hot sauce awful." the youth added.

"No ma'am—those are specifically for his type of sensitivity. The drops that you were given were probably for severe P.S.E." Navub Babusa felt angered after being told that the youth, who looked no more than one thousand, six hundred years old, had been given drops for a form of photo sensitivity that were for severe cases. The wrong P.S.E drops could very well damage the eye, cause extreme pain, and could also make the sensitivity worsen. The bottles that he had given over had a label on them that specifically said _For Mild-Severe P.S.E Only_.

"When I get the funds for his glass I'll return to you." the woman said.

Like with so many other things that morning, he was quick in noting that the woman had a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand; he saw it when she took the three bottles of medicated drops from him. The ring was both pretty and expensive-looking; it had an oval aquamarine gem set beautifully between three rows of diamonds—the vanilla variety of diamond looked to be on the top row while the chocolate variety looked to be on the other two. One look was enough to tell him that it was a wedding ring; for a fleeting second, he thought that, if she possessed such a ring on her, she could afford what he had just prescribed for her son. He was about to voice this when he remembered what he had given his wife after finally proposing to her—even though he had been struggling financially, he had still gone out to get her a ring that had three pink diamonds on it. After hearing what he had just heard, he deduced that the mother of his patient, and her husband, were struggling—the man who had gone and married the mother of his patient had done as he had in going out to get her a ring that'd show her how much he loved her, and that'd also symbolize their special day.

Judging by the way the two were dressed, he also guessed that the woman's husband, Mr. Bakerly, worked long hours only to bring home a small paycheck that only just got them by.

Navub stood then led the two—the youth had already applied the drops to his eye and had said that he was fine and could see again—out of the room. After seeing them out of his building he went back to his desk; he drew a line through Ayla and Reezal Bakerly, wrote down that the appointment had been completed, then added the time that they had been seen. After doing that, he sat back. He had just placed his hands behind his head when the door of his building opened.

"Huh?" Navub's eyes blinked rapidly after TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit entered his building; this was more than surprising for him. He hadn't expected to see, or even have, this man come into his building.

When the man behind the desk jumped at his entrance he couldn't help but smile; never in his existence had someone not jumped after he entered a room or building expectantly. It was his reputation as a conqueror, as a ruler, and as a son of DuruVile Surfeit that made people jump. The man behind the desk, a Zetakin, who had a crown of brown hair, and triangular-shaped eyes that were a golden-brown color, leaned forward after jumping in his seat.

As he walked forward, he reached his hand into the back left pocket of pants; he took the photograph of his wife—the one that he had used on all of them millions of fliers, and that had been shown on all of them news bulletins, and that had also been published in all of the newspapers—out then looked at it. This photograph was one of the more recent ones that he had of his wife; he carried it with him always. He, as was expected of him, got professional after reaching the establishment's desk; he had spent around five minutes sitting in the chair that he had taken up at the eatery that was across the street from the Optometrist building before deciding to get up and then move to the side of the street that the building was on. He had just been leaning against the building when the woman and her son left; the two had neither seen him or had stopped to engage him in conversation. They had just left the area. The decision to go into the building that they had come from, to see if he could drab some information from the ones that had seen them, had been made right after they had gone around the corner.

"Mr. Surfeit... how may I serve you today?" the man, whose name-tag said Navub Babusa, O.D., asked after he reached the desk that he was sitting at.

"Mr. Babusa, I've been searching for over a thousand years for my wife; as much as it shocks me, the woman that just left here looked awfully like her."

Navub knew all about the search; Mr. Surfeit had put billions into looking for the woman that he had married, and for the four boys that she had disappeared with. He understood well what the man was going through and what he was feeling; he'd act in the same way if one of his had suddenly disappeared with no word on why or hadn't said where they were going.

Angel Irene had been conceived during the night of the Universal Eclipse, which only occurred once every five hundred years; her planet of birth was said to be Earth, which was a distance from the one that he was on. According to the newspaper articles that had been written on her, she had been born over two thousand year ago, after her parents, a woman by the name of Helen of Earth, and a man who went by the name of Master Vile, had an affair, which had stemmed for one night only; them newspaper articles had also claimed that Miss. Irene hadn't been born through her mother—Helen of Earth, he did believe he had once read, had already been pregnant on the night of the conducted affair. Miss. Irene, the articles had all said, was a sort of parasitic twin—she had actually been born to a woman named Bathilda of Greece, who was said to of been the one that Helen of Earth had been carrying on the night that the affair took place on, and who was also said to be Miss. Irene's "twin" sister.

It was said that she had been raised tough; the newspaper articles all claimed that she had been raised in caves and that she had been treated roughly by the one who had raised her and by the ones who had lived in the villages that had been near the caves that she had been raised in. The newspapers all claimed that she had already been on her own at the time that she had been given the opportunity to be a student Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic—the woman had personally said that it had taken her twenty-two years before taking on the appearance of an eleven year old human child; she had also said that the teachers from the school had all approached her on the day of her "eleventh" birthday. The approaching teachers had all come to ask her about becoming a student at the school after news had reached them about the powers that she had been exhibiting; she had solely been picked to go to the school because of her exhibited powers and magical abilities—Elemental powers, to be specific; her Energy powers had been a little less developed at the time of the teachers' approach. She had been a candidate for the Outreach Program for Lower Life Planetary Organisms that had Special Abilities, or the O.P.L.L.P.O.S.A, as it had been called back then. Even though she had been a student at the school, she hadn't gotten a full education there; it was said that she left the school after only spending a hundred years there.

The woman had been discovered as a child of Vile Vile, or Master Vile, as he preferred to be called, by the very man himself; he had gone to retrieve her only to find himself dealing with one exceptionally high-strong woman. It had taken the combination of the whole family to bring her in; by the time she was officially brought in, she had given birth to two children... one of which had been sired by the very man that was standing in front of him now.

He was automatically struck with the chills after taking the photograph that was being shown to him. The photograph that he was holding was a large one; it looked like it had once been kept in a 10x13 picture frame. The photograph's colors were very crisp and clear... it looked like a brand new picture, but he knew that it wasn't. Angel Irene had gone missing one thousand, six hundred years ago and, from what the man in front of him had said, she was still missing. He had assumed that he'd see the woman that he had just seen in a month or two's time, after she acquired the funds for her son's goggled glass; it looked like his assumption was wrong because... well, either the woman had a twin, who was her exact copy, or the woman that had just left his building had been the real, the true, and the still alive Angel Irene. TazirVile Surfeit must of noticed his demeanor, and his comparing of what he had just seen and what was in the photograph because, when he took the photograph back, he had a very excited vibe flowing from him.

"I-I think I've seen her... j-just a few minutes ago." Navub said shakily.

"Do you have a security camera in here?" TazirVile Surfeit asked. "I'd like to confirm who came into your establishment."

"Yessir," Navub Babusa walked around his desk then went straight to the door of his establishment. He turned the sign that said that his building was open around, so it'd say that his building was closed. After doing that, he turned around; he went towards the back of his building right after turning the sign around. "Follow me, Mr. Surfeit. The room that my security equipment's set-up in is in the back; you can view and take any photographs or recordings that you wish of the woman that I saw today."

"Thank you, that is very grateful of you." TazirVile Surfeit said. He said nothing more as he followed the man to the building's back.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though she was tired, she was happy with how her morning had gone; as always, she had relished in doing the morning's lot of chores. There was just something about doing house chores that made her feel happy and at peace with the world around her. Instead of putting the still-wet laundry on the line to dry silently, she had found herself both humming and whistling while doing so; a little diddy was sung when she had been cleaning the third level's windows as well. Even though she had been quiet while putting the dishes away, and then when she had been washing, and then waxing, the kitchen floor, she had still been happy. Lunch was just ten minutes past being made; since there were a few in her family that weren't home to enjoy it, it had been put in the microwave until later. Like with the previous lot of mornings that she had experienced that year, she had enjoyed the morning that she had just gone through; instead of doing what her ex-husband, and his family, had probably done that morning, and probably all of the other mornings that had been experienced that year, in waking, then getting dressed, then eating a meal, then finding some sit-on item, like a chair of some sort or a couch, to sit on, she had worked to keep her home looking nice and tidy.

She preferred to be active, and to have something to do in her house, and she was glad to be a stay-at-home-mom—she wouldn't be able to see her children on a minutely to hourly basis, or tend them when they needed tending, if she wasn't one.

Housework, children, tending her chickens—and a few of the other outside animals that her family had—, and her husband; she couldn't see herself doing anything other than that in life. She had always been an active woman and she had always tried to stay on top of things—it made her happy and it gave her a sense of purpose.

The only hiccup that had come from that morning had been the phone call that had come in from her ex-husband; the man had called right when she had been checking on Qhuakiz and Defe—with the kitchen floor having just been done, and with her hearing not a peep from the two of them in nearly an hour and a half, she had grown a bit concerned that they had either been doing something that they shouldn't be doing or that they had gotten into something that they shouldn't of gotten into. Duru had asked the question on where his son and granddaughter were and she, in response, had simply said that they were too busy in dealing with their real family to concern themselves with people who could care a hill of beans for them. Duru had done his usual—he had exploded. Instead of adding fuel to his temper by speaking, and by reacting to the two little threats that he had spoken of doing, she had kept her mouth shut; she had just taken a seat on the stairs. She had waited until he had had his fill in running his mouth before speaking somewhat rationally to him. The exploding thing, and her waiting until after he was done with having his little tantrum episodes, had been a frequent occurrence in their marriage; both had happened on a near daily basis.

If he was going out with one or more of his few-made friends, and she asked him to get her something for either the pantry or for the house, he'd snap at her; he'd go on and on, ranting and raving about this little thing and that little thing that was irrelevant to what she had asked for, before finally asking if she wanted the "motherload" of what all item she had asked for him to get for her. She had never asked him for gifts, had never asked for him to pick her up a necklace or a bracelet or even a dress; it had usually been household items—such as food for the cabinets or cleaning supplies, like Windex, a bar or two of soap, a pack of sponges, or floor soap.

Even though he had a staff—butlers and maids—working for him, she had still liked to partake in the act of cleaning-house; she had been raised to be the woman of the house, to not just sit on her bum, get fat, and abuse the hired help. Cheshire and she had help—they had four maids and butlers—but she still did a lot of the work that needed to be done in the house. After her ex's rambling came to a close she had calmly said _are you finished, you really need to get someone to fix your attitude problem because it's doing nothing but driving people from you_. Before he could start up again, insulting her, and calling her all sorts of names, she hung up—and, by the time she did that, her husband, and one of their sons, had come in. The things that she had asked for them to get for her had been purchased; she had also been surprised with a gift—a new dress, generously given to her by her husband. She had a feeling that the other ladies in the house had a gift or two coming too.

The question of where her oldest son was had been asked after she had noticed that he wasn't with them; Efagti had answered her by saying that he had gone off on his own. Instead of going crazy with worry, and instead of bombarding his cellular number with constant calls, she had left him be. Tazir, though probably very upset, was fine; she was sure that he could take care of himself. When he decided to return to the house, he could either call for someone to come pick him up, or hitch a ride with someone who was planning on driving by their property, or teleport back.

"Everything—the horses, goats, sheep, cows, Almas, and chickens—been fed?" Cheshire was asking Amadh, who was just coming down from taking a shower. Her third oldest son was now wearing a pair of green pants, which were held up by a brown leather belt, and a blue striped, long sleeve, button down shirt; her son's brown shoes were hanging from his finger by the loops at their heels. At the moment, he had just a pair of white socks on his feet.

"Yes, Poppa." Amadh said. "Also been watered; Efagti can muck the stalls later."

"Phaggo can muck the stalls later; Efagti and I need to check the crops." Cheshire said quickly.

Even though her husband was facing away from her, she smiled at him; he was teaching their sons well on how to work and live on a farm and on how to act in life.

Her husband had an impression education; she knew that he had gone to the University of Telepathy first before going off to Zeta Dooblar's School of Teaching—his family, from what she had been told, hadn't much liked him going off to that school. They had been pissed after learning that he had "allowed" himself to be enrolled as a student there. He had spent three hundred years at Zeta Dooblar's School of Teaching before going off to Zeta Yiaz's Academy of Finances—this educational choice of his had caused his family's previous bout of displeasure to drop; they had been fine with him going to that school. Four hundred years at that school had been done before the decision was made for him to attend Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic.

Due to his age at the time that he had gone to the latter school, he had been forced to eat up a lot of fees; after three hundred years—a hundred extra than the average pupil did at the school; he had had a desire to have a few extra years, courses, and credits under his belt before graduating—he had graduated. He had started teaching at Afaab High School, a local school, which had been close to both his old childhood home and his bachelor pad, right after returning to Zeta Ren; after a hundred years of teaching, his ambition to own and replicate what his father had done, which had very nearly gotten him disowned, had kicked in.

After putting the slip, which had simply said that he was taking a half-leave, or a ten-year absence, from teaching, in the school's mailbox, he went and bought a hundred acres of land—all of which he had been keeping his eye on. Sometime after the purchase was made, he started mining. He had used both his money and the money that his family owned to acquire the land—his family, upon discovering what the money that had been taken from their vaults had gone towards, had demanded that he put everything that he had taken from the vaults back. They had also said for him to stop with his ambitions and to stop doing his dream. Fifty of his hundred acres had been prepared for produce, and then planted; while he waited for the produce to be mature enough to pick and then sell, he mined. He had been made a millionaire almost overnight after discovering that ten of his fifty unplanted acres had large quantities of oil on them; the money that he had used to acquire his lands with had been returned to the vaults that he had gotten it from soon after that discovery was made then, soon after, he had wiped his hands clean of most everyone in his family. He had gone back to his purchased acres a year after the oil discovery was made; crops had been planted, tended, and then harvested and sold. When the harvesting season was done, he went back to mining; to his collective surprise, he had found the Universe's most valuable and fashionable, and rare, natural grown substance on that second mining excursion. He had found so much Gold Glass that he had been assured rich for life—thanks to that discovery, he made anywhere between a hundred thousand to a million dollars a day. Despite the discovery of the oil and Gold Glass, he still planted and harvested. He had been retired from teaching for a very long time now; he had acquired his dream and he was still keeping at it.

She, on that first date, had been careful in telling him about her life. His life had been so full of fine things, of fine discoveries; in comparison to his, her life had been a bit bland. Oh, her life had started out fine; the Zoopray's were a prominent family in the Zeta Reticuli system as well—but not as much as the Ubalki's, though. She had been raised and taught well and she had also attended Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, The University of Telepathy, and the Academy of Womanhood—the latter being an educational system where young ladies were taught certain things that went along with how a woman was suppose to act in life, like how to act with or around their husbands, how not to be push-overs, how to stand up when you had to, how to keep your trap shut when it needed to be shut, and, of course, how to keep your husband in line.

She had started slow on her former marriage. Had said that she had married young, and that the marriage had been a big mistake on her part; she had also said that she adored her two children from that marriage—she had also said that she saw Tazir and Qeeta as being the only two good things that had come from that marriage. Cheshire had asked her who her former husband was after being told all of this and she had tentatively said DuruVile Surfeit; only after saying that had she gone into full detail on the marriage—that she had been blinded by her stupidity, and in the fact that she had been struck with a sort of "puppy-love" for the guy, and that he had come very close to putting one of her children in the ground on more than one occasion. Cheshire, after being told how her ex had treated Tazir, had shook his head; he had said that the man was a disgrace and that he didn't want to hear anymore... after a few minutes of silence, he had asked if he could see her children.

He had seen Qeeta first, then he had seen Tazir. The three had hit it off almost at once; the relationship that the three had was better than good... it was almost like that of what an actual father and son, or father and daughter, had. Cheshire, whenever someone came over for a visit, or whenever someone came upon him when he was out on the town, or away on business, was fast in proclaiming Tazir and Qeeta as his stepchildren; Tazir and Qeeta, though also open in using his actual name when speaking of him or when they were around him, usually called him their Stepper—this name, or title, had been used in a non-open way before Angel became a fixture in their lives; her two, older children had started openly using the name Stepper with Cheshire after Angel became apart of them.

"Mrs. Ubalki," a nearby maid called, the phone was in her hand. "phone for you."

"Who is it?"

"Shillah Oislon," the maid replied. After hearing who it was, she went forward; she took the phone from the maid after reaching her.

"Shillah, how're you this midday?" she asked. Even though Shillah and her husband, Davav, lived two miles down the road from them, they were good friends.

"Have you seen what's being reported on the news?" the voice belonging to her neighbor, Shillah Oislon, asked.

"I've been quite busy this morning, I haven't had time for tv." Ashaklar replied.

"Turn your tv on," Shillah said, there was a good hint of excitement in her voice. "Do it now, they've been running this story on the news for a while now."

She was in the living room, right beside the couch—which, except for the light gray cushions, was dark gray in color. The piece of furniture that she was standing beside was S-shaped; it had been purchased almost two hundred years earlier, after their old couch went out on them. There were two sections to the couch; the first faced the front of the room while the other faced the room's back. The phone that she was holding was a light gold color; there were all sorts of chrome floral designs on it. The maid had taken the phone up from a light oak table, which had a single drawer on it and which was near the couch's two base-curve areas. A notepad, with a pen and pencil, was in the table's drawer—due to Cheshire's tendency in forgetting what number belonged to who, both she and the maids made a point in writing down any number that came in.

Her living room was elegantly designed; besides the S-shaped couch and the unique phone, there were also two brown, elegant chairs, that had white cushions on the back and seat, in it. A 50" screen was mounted on the room's front-facing wall; a white stone bench was under the screen. Four vases—two of which were normal while the other two had a Tulip-effect to their design—were on the bench; they had yellow and blue flowers in them. Vases were one of her favorite decorative pieces; they went with everything, they looked nice, and they also brightened a room up.

Ashaklar walked around to the section of the couch that faced the room's front-facing wall; after reaching the area that she desired most, she stopped then sat down. After taking a seat on the couch, she reached for the remote, which was both on a dark walnut coffee table and before the section of the couch that she was sitting on. After taking the remote from the table, she pressed the power button then waited; a zap, followed by static, was heard. The screen did nothing for a few seconds before taking on the colors of the program that was currently being aired; the program that came on was one that was frequently watched in her home—Amadh was a big fan of watching a show called The Files of 8, which was an alien sitcom that usually showed two segments, or stories, that had a near-similar meaning to them. Ashaklar quickly changed the channel from 32 to 12; she nearly dropped the phone a second later, after seeing that her oldest son was being interviewed by a reporter. The caption that was underneath him had his name on it; the little bar that was in the screen's far left corner said LIVE.

"Yes! My wife _was_ seen _today_ —the video footage that I saw _had_ her _in_ it. She's alive. She looked in better than fine shape and it looked like she had one of our sons with her." Ashaklar's mouth dropped, was her son saying what she thought he was saying?

"Do you know where she came from? Where she went? Where was she taped?" an unseen reporter was asking her son.

"I have no idea where she came from or where she went; she was seen and video taped inside Goggles For All—an establishment that's owned by one named Navub Babusa."

"Are you looking further into this discovery?" the unseen reporter asked her son.

"Yes—Mr. Babusa is checking his logs; she called him last night... I'm hoping that I can pinpoint where she was at the time of her call placement." her son answered quickly.

"I imagine that you're thrilled at this find; the program on your wife was shown last night—"

"I'm more than thrilled—I'm about to leap into the sky!" her son exclaimed.

"Did the security tape have the youth on it as well?" the unseen reporter asked.

"Yes! He looked to be in fine shape, I'm greatly surprised at how healthy he looked!" it did look like her son was about to jump around some—he was very excited.

"Will photographs be shown of the two?" the unseen reporter asked. "Will you have the photographs of your wife and son be shown to the public—to see if anyone else has seen them?"

"I'll be doing that as soon as I get whatever information Mr. Babusa has filed away."

Ashaklar spoke to Shillah for a few more minutes before hanging up; after hanging the phone up, she ran to tell Cheshire what she had just seen on the news. She showed him what was being aired then she gave him a good stare; her husband, though overjoyed with the news, composed himself well. For the next seven hours, they waited for some other development to occur with the discovery that Tazir had made. Even though their children, Qeeta, and Eshal were told what was happening, they weren't allowed to get but so excited or antsy over it—as a way to keep everyone calm, chores were given to nearly everyone in the house. Phaggo and Amadh were given the chore of checking the wheat and sugar cane that was growing in the field that was beside an unplanted one, which were both behind the house; Blaiga, Qeeta, and Eshal were given the chore of cleaning the carpets in the house while Qhuakiz and Defe, being too young to know what was happening, were allowed to continue as they were.

Lunch, instead of being served at the table, was given out; she and her husband told everyone to eat while doing their chores. She and her husband ate in the living room—something that they rarely did. While they ate, they watched the news; though disappointed over there being no new developments in Tazir's discovery, they knew that it might take a few hours before another lead or two was found.

Cheshire was in the process of going into the kitchen for a glass of water when a news bulletin, a fresh one, not one of the recycled ones that had been shown for the last several hours, appeared on the screen. Ashaklar, who was just as excited as could be, squealed after seeing the bulletin then gestured for her husband to come over after he appeared in the room's doorway. He had just taken a seat on the couch when a reporter, a man, who had a line of kinky, black hair on the sides of his head, and a pencil-thin, black mustache under his tiny nose-holes, started talking.

"When the new episode of Disappeared Without A Trace aired last night, many figured that a handful or two of false reports would surface; a great shock was felt all over the Universe after an authentic report of not one but two of the program's featured missing people being seen was made. The report on a woman, who could well be Angel Irene, the wife of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, being seen was made this morning, at nine-fifteen—up to thirty minutes ago, no new leads on this report came to light." the reporter said. Even though he knew she wouldn't fall, Cheshire wrapped his arm around his wife's middle—Ashaklar was practically sitting on the edge of the cushion that she was on. "Here is Sossios Wonfourn with the report. Sossios,"

"Thank you, Pajiss,"

Ashklar kept it in—Sossios Wonfourn was one handsome Zetakin! In each of his given reports, he looked tall; he had to be over six foot, one. The man had light yellow skin—which was rare in their species—and red eyes that were shaped like triangles. Pretty much everyone in her house knew about her little reporter crush; along with the crush, everyone also knew that she wouldn't stray from her husband—even if the two met in person, the crush would remain nothing more than that; she was still very well taken with her husband.

Sossios Wonfourn was inside a building; there were tables set-up in nearly all of the corners. There looked to be four investigators in the building. Tazir was near the building's back; he was on the phone with someone.

"Up to half an hour ago, TazirVile Surfeit, the husband of one of the more renown missing folk in the Universe, looked to of had a dry case; this all changed after he found himself having not one but two new details land on his lap.

"Navub Babusa, the owner of Goggles For All, the place where the woman, who could very well be Mr. Surfeit's wife, was seen in, has been reputed to of put a gallant search in on the records that he has of the calls that were made to his building last night; after several hours of searching, the number that was used by his client in question was found and then given over.

"TazirVile Surfeit, the son of DuruVile Surfeit and Ashaklar Zoopray, tracked the number which, at first, sent him no where. After an hour and a half of getting no where, he placed a call to a telephone technician who, after thirty minutes of working to see if he could pinpoint the area where the call had stemmed from, was able to successfully track it down."

"It took a while, but the call was traced back to an age-old phone, which had previously been down due to the lines being disrupted." the caption that was underneath the man, who was speaking into Sossios Wonfourn's mic, said that he was the technician behind one of the two developments in the search—the man, who's name was given as being Rhelome Nafal, was a short one; he had dark green skin and oval-shaped, medium green eyes, which looked a bit too big on his small face. The pair of thick-rimmed goggled glasses, that the man was wearing, made his eyes look double the size that they really were. "The call was sent through a payphone, which is still up in a location on Earth called Albany, which is located in New York State. All of the known payphones on Earth were disconnected in 2103; some were left up and kept intact after the disuse was put into effect—this, we all believe, was done for both historical reasons and as a way to show the next generation what was used by their forebears.

"Each phone has an information plaque near it, which tells one how the device was used, how much cash was needed for the device to be used, and why it was used. There are no humans on Earth who can reassemble such a device—the humans, over the last two thousand years, have forgotten how to rewire it. We believe that there is only one person around today who could rewire a payphone and that is Angel Irene."

"She was around during that era, right?" Sossios Wonfourn asked the man.

"Most definitely—Mr. Surfeit says that she had good technical smarts, so she would be able to rewire, and then use, a phone of that type that's down with ease." the technician replied. The man said nothing more; he turned then went back to work.

"The next find came a few minutes later, after the names used by the woman who's thought to be Angel Irene, and the youth that's believed to be her thirdborn son, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, were exposed to the public. A call from an Optometrist, who's said to be on Zeta Chible, was received; Ayla Bakerly, the name that was placed to the sign-in sheet of Goggles For All, had been said to of visited the planet with the same youth that was seen this morning. They were seen on Zeta Chible just a week ago—" Sossios Wonfourn looked about to say more; when her son placed the phone that he was using back on its station, the man rushed over to him. "Mr. Surfeit, you've had quite an eventful day, are there any further developments?"

"At the moment, no—I'm about to send one of the investigators in the building to Zeta Chible, to see a man named Juk Disselpoof, who claims that he also saw my wife and the youth that I saw with her." her son replied without a hitch or hiccup.

"Sources tell me that you're about to return to your family, who will be in charge of the investigating? Will it be ongoing?"

"The searching will go on, I have no intention of letting it drop." her son said. "Mursod Strogonar will take charge until I get back tomorrow."

Though it took a while, her son returned just before supper was placed on the table. While tired, he had an air of excitement around himself that kept him from falling asleep; it took a lot out of them to not jump at or throw him more than a day's worth of questions after he took his place at the kitchen's mahogany table, which was long enough to take all of them, plus another six to eight others. Their mouths remained sealed as he started in on his meal; even though they said nothing to him, the major questions that they were all wondering, and that they wanted answers to, were quite evident on their faces.

Did you really seen your wife; did you get a good still from the video camera; and did you find anything about the youth that was seen with the woman that you saw today—those were the questions that they wanted answers to.

Even though the ones who did the news had said that they'd show the photographs of the woman who was thought and said to be Angel Irene, and the youth that she had been seen with, no such photographs had been shown or even mentioned by anyone who had done stories on the "smashing" new development that had surfaced on the search for their missing family. It had just been old re-runs; nothing new had been discovered and nothing new had happened for hours now. As expected, the re-runs on the stories had been pushed to the available final slots on the news; if anything new had come up, it would of been placed on one of the available first-run story slots.

TazirVile, they all noticed, was ravenous. He finished his steak, potatoes, and beans soon after taking his place at the table; the side of tater tots were shoved in one by one then swallowed soon after the bulk of his meal was consumed. He was reaching for his salad when Efagti decided to ask him the questions that they wanted answers to. She, her husband, Eshal, and everyone else at the table waited quietly for Efagti's questions to be answered; instead of answering right away, TazirVile wiped his face with the napkin that was nearest him. He answered the questions presented to him while reaching into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket.

"She is, without a shadow of doubt, my wife." he said. He took a brown leather case from his jacket, opened it, then took two photographs out. He gave one of the photographs to his mother.

"That or a spot-on twin!" Ashaklar exclaimed. There was no mistaking who the fiery redhead in the photograph was. The woman in the photograph didn't only have Angel's hair, she also had her eye color and skin complexion too. "She looks none changed than when she disappeared."

"She looks great! In great shape—nothing's changed in her physical appearance; she looks very healthy." TazirVile said as he gave the photograph of the youth who had been seen with the woman, who he believed with all of his heart was his wife, to his mother.

Even though she hadn't seen him in sixteen hundred years, she knew well what her third grandson, Hazaar, looked like. Hazaar had been born with having a dark blue skin complexion; his eyes had been of the wrap-around sort, they had also been a right shiny, deep purple color.

The youth in the photograph didn't look like Hazaar; he had periwinkle-blue skin, for one, and, for two, his eyes were circular in shape. They were also a right shiny, silver color. His hair, Ashaklar was quick in noting, was also different than Hazaar's—he had a thin row of brick red hair that went around his head in a C-like fashion. Hazaar had been born with a small tail of hair sticking out from the nape of the back of his head; his little hair-tail had been the same shade of purple as his eyes. After her grandson reached fifty years of age, she had found herself joking about his having some feminine qualities to him—that little tail of hair, that her grandson had been born with, had grown out a bit, had gotten longer, in the fifty years that had followed his birth. Her ex-husband, she recalled, had wanted Tazir to shave the tail of hair off; he had said that it made Hazaar look downright funny, which it hadn't—in her opinion, it had made him look both unique and even more cute. Tazir had stood up to his father; he had said that he wasn't going to do anything of the sort to his son's hair.

Ashaklar gave the photograph to her husband, who didn't do as she had done; instead of keeping his mouth shut, and in not offering his opinion on who the youth was, he spoke on what he was seeing.

"Well, the woman is Angel, no doubt on that one, but who in the Universe is this youngster?"

"I'm thinking Hazaar—it can't be Lhaklar or Bile." TazirVile said.

"Can't be Hazaar," QeetaVile, who had the photograph now, said. "Hazaar had a little tail of deep purple hair on the nape of the back of his head. This fellow has a single, thin row of red hair, which is worn in a C-fashion around the back and sides of his head."

"Grew his hair out? Got a new style?" TazirVile said. His face bore a look of confusion on it now.

"Hazaar also had dark blue skin and wrap-around, deep purple eyes." Ashaklar pointed out.

"This fellow has periwinkle-blue skin and circular-shaped, solid silver eyes." Cheshire said. "This can't be Hazaar, Tazir. Nothing matches up."

He ate the rest of his supper in silence then went straight up to the room that he had been given to sleep in; the book of photographs, which, much like the picture of his wife, he always had on him, was removed from his suitcase then taken to the bed soon after he entered the room.

His appointed room had a large bed in it; the bed's comforter and sheets were both white and had false gold floral designs on them, the blankets that were between them two bedding items were a simple, light gray color. The bed's two pillows were both large and encased in white pillow cases, which had a single, false gold, braid-like bar going down their centers. A dark brown walnut bedside table, that had a normal, dark green phone sitting next to a two-bell alarm clock and a light orange glass vase, that had a red and orange rose in it, was to the left of the bed; a light brown wicker chair, that had a pillow, that was a little darker shade of brown, on its seat, was to the right of the bed.

There was a light purple carpet on the room's floor; along with having a cream-based paint on them, the room's walls had all sorts of gray and moss green vine-like designs on them. The ceiling matched the base-color of the walls; a simple, domed light was above the bed. In the room's bottom left corner sat another dark brown walnut bedside table; it had a dull gold lamp, that had a matching lace shade, sitting on it. There was a set of cream-colored curtains hanging before the room's one window—which, at the moment, was open. A medium-brown walnut dresser was across from the foot of the bed; a nicely folded towel and a porcelain bowl, which had a light green and dark gray, swirl-like pattern on it, were on its surface. A round mirror was on the wall above the dresser.

The room was the same one that he'd always find himself getting after coming over for a lengthy visit; he never griped, groaned, or moaned over the room's decoration or design—he knew better than to do that; his mother and stepfather were good, respectable people who were more than gracious enough to accept him and his daughter whenever they came over for any length of time.

Before reaching the bed, TazirVile took his jacket off; he tossed it over to the wicker chair than turned around. The book that he had in his hand was already open when his rear touched the bed.

"Instead of thinking and being rational about what I saw, I got excited over it." he thought. "Should of done this hours ago."

He turned the pages, going past several photographs—of him and Angel; of him, Angel, Bile, and Lhaklar; and of singles of his wife and sons—before stopping; the proof, as much as he hated to admit it, was right in front of his face. The single photographs of his sons had been taken by him while the ones of him and Angel, and of him, Angel, and one or more of their children, had been taken by his neighbor, Gloar.

Here was Hazaar as a baby—he was no more than ten years old; he still looked very babyish. It took around a hundred and fifty to two hundred years before one who had been given the gift of immortality to look like a toddler; the gift of immortality made for one's growth rate to be slow, which, to his knowledge, no one complained about. The slow maturation meant that one could spend more time with their kids, and experience all of the phases without having to run the worry of missing them or feeling blue over their going by so fast. The photograph that he was looking at showed a very healthy ten-year old HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit; the eyes of his then-infant son were open—the photograph had been taken on his son's birthday; he had been naughty in disturbing the Birthday Boy, who had been taking one of his mid-afternoon naps. The photograph that was on the next page showed the small tail of hair that his son had been born with—like his sister had pointed out, it was a deep purple color.

TazirVile sighed in despair; the excitement had just wrapped itself around him, had clouded his mind and judgements... he had gotten so caught up in the excitement over what he had seen that he had forgotten what his secondborn son had looked like.

He closed the album slowly; the photograph of the youth, that had been seen with the red-haired woman, had already been placed between the two photographs that were on the pages that were behind the ones that he had just looked at—while one of the two photographs that the unknown youth's photograph was between was another of Hazaar, the other was of his youngest son, who had just been brought home from the hospital.

After closing the album, then placing it on the table that was beside the bed, he stood up; a wave of depression swept over him after the book was placed on the table's surface. He was gripped in the wave for all of two minutes before shoving it to the side; a good many of questions popped into his head after he forced his depression away. He began to wonder if his mind hadn't pulled some sort of trick on him; what if the woman that he had seen that early morning wasn't his wife... could his mind of put a mental image of his wife over the woman's real one; could he of been self-tricked into believing that he had seen his wife when, in reality, he hadn't?

"Going to wonder if she had an affair on you next?" his conscious asked him. "That was her—even your mother said it was her!"

"Could that be it? Did she, sometime after leaving with the boys, have an affair with someone on this planet... an affair that produced the young man that I saw today?" he asked himself.

This self-made question turned his previous bout of sadness to anger; Angel had been seen with a gray-haired man on Earth about two thousand, one hundred years ago... she had run with the gray-haired man for two years and she had even produced three children by him—all of which she had lost to miscarriage very early on in the pregnancy. Angel had shown no hint of wanting to run away to join that man after being returned to Moas; she, after his brother's attempt in forcing her to get to know her family failed, had spoken not a word or had even thought about that man again.

He, like any good husband was suppose to do, had given her free roam. Trips to the cities and towns that were a distance from his residence had been allowed; she had taken his various cars from place to place on a near three to four-day basis; she had ridden his horses around both his property and the neighborhood—and she had always returned to him! No hint or whiff of other males had been detected on her; no hints of pain in the nether region had been noted after she came home from her out-of-the-house excursions; no unknown hairs had been plucked or found on her clothing; and no letters had come to her from men that he didn't know of. The only letters that had come in her name had come from family—his mother and stepfather; his brother and sister-in-law; his father and his wife; his grandfather... though rare, she'd also get between two to five letters per year from his grandfather's uncle.

TazirVile Surfeit tried his best to put the thought of his wife committing such horrors as having an affair with someone from his mind but, somehow, the thought kept coming back to him. He fell asleep that night with it still fresh on his mind. When he slept, he dreamed of his beloved wife sleeping with an unknown Zetakin male... who had, at some period after her disappearance occurred, sired the very youth that he had seen with the red-haired woman that morning.


	6. Chapter 6

It didn't take her long to begin worrying about her son or to hate the "investigator" that he had hired to do the search during his periods in not being able to do it himself. Tazir had looked fine the day following his discovery while, on the following day, he had looked a bit thoughtful and aggravated; her son had looked a bit sad on the third day while, on the fourth, he had been eerily quiet. Nothing was happening with her son's rejuvenated search; no further leads, no calls, no sightings, no nothing... it was like what her son had seen was a once in a lifetime type of thing.

There were just three days left to Family Week; even though her son had participated in the holiday, she had noticed the slip in his emotional and mental self. The man—a Mursod Strogonar—that he had hired to conduct the search when he wasn't around to do it himself was doing nothing but sitting behind a desk. The man, who claimed that he was one of the best investigators on Zeta Fanblur, wasn't doing anything; he wasn't asking questions, he wasn't sending out calls, and he wasn't following up on leads. There had been two other leads: Ayla Bakerly, and the youth that she had been seen with, had been seen on Zeta Rygin and Zeta Ebli—again, they had been seen going into and then leaving Optometrist buildings. Footage from the buildings that they had gone into had been collected and then analyzed by both her son and Mr. Strogonar—the former had given it a more in-depth checking while the latter had only glanced at it before going off to do something else.

It was no surprise on her part that, just two days ago, she had come to start wishing that her son would fire the man then find someone who was more reliable—someone who was more professional, and who would be an active part of the search instead of just taking up unneeded space. Due to her son's current mind and emotional state, he hadn't been able to participate much in the search for clues on "Ayla Bakerly"... as of the last two days, he had been forced to rely on others to do his dirty work for him.

She, in a lot of ways, had gotten a small bit of her wish; a few hours ago, the new search for Angel had been closed—Mursod had had the nerve to up and close the case. He had left for Zeta Fanblur right after putting the _Closed_ stamp on the file. With what was going on, and with the clues that had come in in the last few days, she thought that the act of closing the case was very wrong on all fronts.

The claim from a man named Juk Disselpoof, who lived and worked on Zeta Chible, which was ten planets from the one that she and her family were on, had been checked and then confirmed. Ayla Bakerly and the youth, Reezal Bakerly, had been in his building; the youth had been checked over for an eye ailment then he had been sent away after his mother had said something about not having the funds for the glasses that he had just been prescribed. The people who had seen the pair on Zeta Rygin and Zeta Ebli had said the same thing—another appointment had been done; "Reezal" had been checked over, then prescribed a set of specks for his specific eye ailment; then they had been sent on their way after "Ayla" said something about not having the funds for his prescription. All of this, alone, should of warranted the case being left open; she had a feeling that Tazir was most upset about his case being closed and about his "investigator" walking out on him.

"Hasn't just effected Tazir—his case being closed has effected all of us." she thought. Her entire family was in the living room. The tv was on; Amadh's favorite program, The Files of 8, was on, but it wasn't really being watched. Everyone was depressed.

And, as if the closing of her son's case wasn't bad enough, the Surfeit clan was climbing all over her son's back.

A call had been placed right after word on her son's rejuvenated search had reached the ears of the ones that her son carried the name of; they had gotten mad about her son going around, saying that he had seen a woman who looked very eerily similar to Angel. They, all of them, had done their _oh, what you saw was wishful thinking_ ; _you conjured an image of Angel up several hours after the program was run then applied it to some woman_ — _who isn't her!_ After taking the phone up on one of the callings, she had personally heard one of them say _You've been chasing nothing but a ghost; you're wasting thousands of Zeta Ren city dollars with this new search of yours_. Her son had been bold on the first two days; telling them off... sticking up for himself. Their constant calls, and insults, had, sadly, taken effect on the third day.

She could kick a certain KurukVile and DuruVile Surfeit in the ass for their constant calls; she had overheard Kuruk saying that her son was hurting them by continuing with his search—that he was making their grief over the "loss" of Angel and her sons grow.

"They're gone, Tazir. They're gone and they won't ever come back." her son's older brother, KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, had said yesterday. "Quit looking for her, will you. Let us have closure, please. Let us heal from the pain that this whole ordeal's put on us."

After recalling the conversation that she had overheard between her son and his brother, Ashakler got up then left the room; she went into the kitchen then she went straight to one of the counters—all of the kitchen counters had granite marble quartz surfaces and pull-out drawers on them; unlike her previous husband, Cheshire had let her model the kitchen and half of the rooms in the house.

Duru had not allowed for her to partake in putting her special stamp in on the house that she was to live in; during their marriage, he had been the only one allow to think up, or initiate, design changes to the house's rooms and exterior. Not only had he been the one to call in the contractors, but he had also stood by to watch the construction and remodeling happen; not once had he let her step foot in a room that was being remodeled—the act of giving her opinion on how the remodeling was going had also not been allowed. Cheshire had let her take charge of the rooms that she had taken on to design; he had stepped back... he had let her wear the pants for the first six months of the house's construction then, after the kitchen, and then seventy-five of the house's hundred and fifty rooms were completed, he had taken over.

Oak cabinets ran halfway around the kitchen; there were matching shelves, that had hooks on their undersides that held pots and pans, over by the room's far back wall. The plates and bowls, that her family used to eat from, were nicely aligned on these shelves; the fine china, and other fine dish-wares, were also on the room's shelves.

The drawer that she was reaching into was the one that she kept her little notes, her cooking books and instructions, and specific photographs in. Four days ago, before her son slipped into become the man that he currently was, she had asked if she could have a copy of the photographs of the woman-youth pair that he had seen; instead of giving her a copy of the two photographs, he gave her the actual photographs. After taking the two photographs from the drawer, she turned then leaned against the counter; there was a wood grain floor under her feet, the walls and ceiling around her were a medium-blue color. There were four copper pendant globes hanging from the ceiling; the bulbs that were in them lit the room up rather nicely.

A double-door silver refrigerator, that had an ice machine built into it, was to her left; the microwave and coffee pot was on the counter directly beside that—the coffee pots that they bought had a lifespan of around five or six years, and it just so happened that the one that they currently had was heading on five years. They were probably looking to needing to get a new one in the next few months. On the counter behind her, there was a blender; the standard dish drain, with its undertray and appointed towel, was beside the sink. The dishwasher that was two feet from the sink was almost never used—she liked doing the dishes the old fashion way, by using dish soap, a sponge or wash cloth, and her hands; she firmly believed that the dish-wares got cleaner, and lasted longer, when this method was used.

"There's no way that this isn't Angel," she very nearly said aloud. "The fiery red hair is spot on; the emerald-green eyes are spot on; the woman has a golden-yellow ring around her pupils, which are black; and she has a honey-like skin complexion. She has Angel's facial type as well—circular, with a small, rounded chin."

After taking the two photographs from the drawer, then giving them a quick glance, she went upstairs; like any other person who was related to another, and who had spent a span of six hundred-plus years either knowing or being around that person, she had her own collection of photographs of Angel and, like Tazir, she had been cutting and then keeping anything that was put in the papers that revolved around her and her sons—the album that contained the photographs of her daughter-in-law and grandsons was right beside the one that all of the newspaper clippings were in; both were in the room that she and her husband slept in.

The walk to the white-painted staircase took nearly two minutes; she wasted no a second in going up or in stopping herself from trailing her hand along its bronze banister. While on the way up the stairs, she, for no reason at all, started thinking about the foyer; although her husband had been the one to design its shape, she had been the one to decorate it. She had put a lot of plants—the kind that both sat on the floor, in vases, and that hung from the ceiling in baskets—and bird portraits in the room; after putting them things up, she had hung a bunch of family portraits on the walls—even though she had done her best to not overflow the room with plants, and her favorite animal, it had still happened. Her husband hadn't said a thing about it; from what she had been told, he liked how the foyer looked. Even though the kitchen had a wood grain floor in it, the rest of the flooring in her home was vinyl. The vinyl flooring in her home was a pearl white color—there were plum colored, wispy designs to each vinyl segment. There were a series of pearl-white, domed lights running down the hallway that came off the foyer; her husband had been the one to put those up. Each of the hallway lights cast a bright white glow to the hallway below.

She saw the dark purple throw rug, that was on the second level's hallway, right after finishing her ascent up the stairs; the rug had light purple tassels running all along its sides—her husband had been the one to put the rug in the hallway; he had also been the one to make the decision on the living room and bedrooms having light purple carpeting in them. The rest of the house either had a throw rug running along its vinyl flooring or its vinyl was bare.

Duru had thought her mad after learning about her fetish for vases; the man would probably die of a heart attack if he ever came over for a visit—there were a lot of vases in her home; the hallway that she was on was especially well-decorated in the pieces. The hallway that she had just entered had a series of fancy-plated silver vases, that had dramatic ruffles and decorations of flowers on their sides, on it; each vase was set at every five-step intervals. Some of the vases had red roses in them while others had white roses, or Tulips, in them; like the foyer, there were photographs of her and her family on the walls—she was a woman big on family and she wanted anyone who walked into and then through her home to know it.

She went down the hallway a bit before stopping; the door that she turned towards was "guarded" by two vases, which were a lit-up blue color, and which had blue Calla Lily flowers in them. The door before her belonged to the room that she and her husband used; even though her husband had taken over in the house's construction at the time of this room's decoration, he had still called her over to join him in modeling and then getting it fixed up. After stopping before the door, Ashaklar opened it then went in; she didn't bother with closing the door behind her.

"Don't suppose you'll go against me in saying yes on our getting a full-sized mattress instead of a queen, or about the frame being one of those wooden platform types?" she recalled her husband saying on the day that they had started putting their heads together on decorating the room; he had just opened one of the bedroom catalogs that she had brought back from town, both he and it had been sitting on the room's floor at the time.

"No on the mattress size—you're talking about the low platform bed frame, right? The one that has a sway-like structure to its head and baseboard?" she had asked.

"Mhmm."

"Nope."

She went to the first of the room's two dressers after entering the room; there were two dressers in the room, one that was made of dark cherry wood, and that had bronze-plated handles, and another that was made of plain walnut wood, but that had similar plated handles on it. The dresser that she was headed towards had both her and her husband's normal-day clothing in it; the other dresser contained the clothing that they wore on special occasions. Both of these dressers were situated to the right of the room; they were beside one another. The dark cherry wood dresser had three vases on it—one that doubled up as a clock, that was a light blue color, but that had all sorts of false gold designs on it, and that had a lion on its top, which looked to be guarding its contents; another that was shaped like a conch shell, and that had a blue, a black, and a white swirl-like pattern to it; and a silver, glass-like one that had three, horseshoe-like parts that connected at its top. The latter vase had artificial white flowers in it.

The photograph that was above the two latter vases had her husband, Efagti, and Amadh in it; the three were standing over a Long-muzzled Antelope, an animal that had long, sway-back horns and a distinct, saddle-like patch of dark mahogany fur on its back and sides, but that mostly had light brown fur on the sides of its belly, on the underside of its belly, and on its legs, rump, neck, and head. There was nothing on the surface of the second dresser; her husband was the one that dominated the good-sized screen that was on the wall above this dresser.

"What's the pool for, Cheshie?" she recalled asking after seeing the blueprints of their bedroom; after seeing the small, hourglass-shaped pool, that had been on the two pieces of paper, which had been left out in the kitchen one day, she had grown curious over why such an item would be included in their room.

"A dream of mine—you ever wonder what it's like to get up in the morning then take a dip, or a quick swim, in a pool that's in the room that you sleep in?"

After taking the faux leather covered photograph album from the dresser's top drawer, she went over to the bed that she shared with her husband; it was the exact same one that she and Cheshire had agreed to get on that day that had happened so many thousands of years ago. The bed had a blue and green, checkerboard patterned comforter and sheets on it; the bed's four pillows had matching pillow cases on them. A chocolate brown bench, that had accent sides and legs, sat in front of the bed; a set of rattan wicker lounge chairs, both of which had white cushions on them, were to the of the room. A set of glass doors, that opened out on a balcony, were beside the two chairs.

The item that was in the room's center was what brought the memory of her and husband's discussion on the blueprints' depicted pool to the surface—there was a pool in their bedroom, which neither took up the entire room's floorspace or was big enough for more than two at a time. The pool's floor had blue tile on it; the water was a bright blue color, it was also chlorine treated. Not only did she and her husband enjoy a quick dip in the morning, which aided them in waking fully, and in also starting their day off right, but they also used the pool as a sort of romantic means—Efagti and Blaiga had both been conceived in this pool.

After taking her place on the bed, she opened the album then started running through its many pages; pictures of her sons and daughters, of her husband, of her husband and her, and of family get-togethers flashed by for a few seconds before the pages slowed down in turning. The first two pages that had photographs of Angel in them were merely looked at before being turned; she stopped, then looked at the six photographs that were on the next two pages before going on. It took her another two pages before finally finding what she was looking for.

The photograph was another of them family get-together types; she and her husband, and some of their children, were situated in the image's back, Bile and Lhaklar were off to the image's far left side while Angel and Tazir were more in the center of the image—the one with the camera had been focusing more on them than on anyone else. Tazir and his family had been visiting for Family Week; Angel had been heading on her fifth month of being pregnant with Hazaar at the time of the visit. Her daughter-in-law looked lovely; some of her hair was braided, and she had a small bit of makeup on her face. The brown and yellow grass that was around her caught the glow of her fiery red hair exceptionally well. Even though she gave her daughter-in-law's physical attributes a good checking she wasn't but so focused on them; it was the ring that the woman wore that had her attention.

"It's not her," Ashaklar jumped after hearing the gravelly-sounding voice that belonged to her oldest son. The album that she was looking at fell to the floor; when she looked up, she saw that her son was just inside the room. "I've looked. I've checked. It's not her."

"Tazzy, don't be silly!" Ashaklar gasped. "There cannot—can not—be another woman that looks so similar to her."

"She looks similar but she's not her." TazirVile insisted. "I just saw someone that looked like her."

"This girl—" Ashaklar grabbed the still from the security film up from the floor then held it up. "—looks fully like her. Look at the hair, Tazzy! Look at the eyes! Look at the r—"

Instead of saying it, she grabbed the album, found the photograph that she had been looking at, then walked it over to her son. Her son had turned himself halfway around; he had a sad and defeated look on his face. Before getting halfway across the room, she stopped then backtracked to the dresser; the drawer that had her and her husband's underwear in it was opened—though it was a strange place to keep a magnifying glass, her husband kept one handy in the drawer that she pulled open. She grabbed the glass, then slid the drawer shut, then resumed her trek to her son.

"You remember the ring that you bought for her?" she asked her son. "The wedding ring?"

"Yes—a one of a kind. Very expensssss...expensive." the sob very nearly came out, but he retained it just in the nick of time.

"Did you notice that the woman in this still has a ring on her finger that looks identical to the one that you bought for Angel?"

If not for her shoving the still, and the magnifying glass, at him, he wouldn't of even noticed that the woman had any sort of jewelry on her, much less noticed that she was, indeed, wearing a ring that eerily resembled the one that he had purchased for his wife. A few days after winning his case in the Elder Courts, and then swinging by his place to pack a few things, and to collect his daughter, and then moving in with his brother for a few weeks, he had taken Angel out on the town that was closest to his brother's place; a carriage, and a horse, had been borrowed and then Angel had been carted away. He had taken her to the town of Vordir three times; on that first trip, he had gotten her the ring that she had still been wearing on the day that she disappeared. Angel's father had been quite jealous of the purchase, and of the fact that Angel was very open to accepting the ring that he had gotten for her; he had tried to slip the ring off her finger twice—when that hadn't happened, he had tried cutting it off. Angel, as always, had been fast in preventing him from evicting the piece of jewelry from her person.

The girl in the still had a ring on the next to last finger of her left hand; it had an oval aquamarine gem set between three rows of diamonds—judging by the color of the ring's diamonds, he deduced that it had both vanilla and chocolate diamonds on it.

"You know the fashion! Certain rings are sometimes kept in production for years—the one that you gave to Angel had a very limited run, and there were only fifty made of it. When you bought that ring, it had a hefty price-tag of $1,024—it's a rare ring nowadays because, most who got it, lost it or, somehow, destroyed it. After it was made, no others like it were made. Not even a replica of this ring was made." he thought after bringing the magnifying glass, and the still of the woman, in closer.

"See it?" his mother asked him.

Even though it was the discovery of what the woman in the still was wearing on her finger that got her son back to being his former happy, excited self, it was the call that came in that put him in an even more excited mood—apparently, one of her son's still-present investigators had gone and left her son's actual number on one of the tables that were in the building that was being used as Base One for her son's current search; someone had called her son's landline number with some information on the woman that had been seen four days ago.

Two new leads had been discovered; one was very recent—as in, only six hours old. A woman had surveillance footage of the two talking just outside of the back of her restaurant; the footage that she possessed was four days old. The woman claimed that her surveillance footage had captured not only the two talking but also the two teleporting somewhere. The second lead had come from a different location on Zeta Ren about six hours ago; it was said that the red-haired woman had been seen with not just one youth—not only had the woman been seen with the youth that she had been seen with four days ago but she had also been seen with another youth, who was said to look older than the other boy.

Soon after her son learned this, he ran out of the house; he jumped into the Cadshire, which her husband had already retrieved after hearing what was going on, right after leaving the house. Cheshire, after learning what was going on, had decided to go with him; to lend him some emotional assistance, and to also be a second pair of eyes, just in case her son missed something.

"Be warned, looks like something's cooking on the horizon." Amadh said five minutes after the two left. The orange clouds in the sky had just moved away from the mid-afternoon's red sun; he automatically assumed that that was a sign that something was on its way and that it was going to be both explosive and very surprising.


	7. Chapter 7

She did as she had been doing for the last five days—once the bulletin was shown on the screen, that was mounted over the stone fireplace that was situated in the center of the room's left-facing wall, she sighed then reached over for the remote. The MUTE button was swiftly pressed; she went back to knitting after the tv was silenced.

"I wish they'd stop airing them reports—they're not needed anymore." she said as she unrolled the amount of thread that she needed for the sweater that she was making for one of her children. "They're overdoing it, and I'm about sick of it."

"Sadly, as long as my brother keeps up his dastardly search, they'll keep at it." her husband, who was in the nearby hallway, and who had caught her words, said. "I don't know what his problem is—doesn't want to cope with the facts, doesn't want to accept that what was taken from him won't ever come back..."

"I wish that he'd stop—this isn't what we need." she said after her husband trailed off. "What we need is time to heal."

She, and her husband, had gone through a lot in the last sixteen hundred years; even though the stress, and heart-ache, still had her in its firm clutches, she hadn't allowed for it to change her appearance or make her grow cold or distant towards the ones around her. The news bulletin that was on the screen was saying the same old thing—that her brother-in-law, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, was still searching for clues on the woman that he had seen five days ago. She, in a lot of ways, wished that the man would stop; they had searched the Universe, had either tacked or handed out or thrown around countless fliers, had done more than enough interviews, had sent out bulletin after bulletin after bulletin, and had waited... and waited... and waited—no reward, or desired, or halfway desired, results, had been granted to them. Nothing had happened to comfort them, or to make their hopes and dreams become real.

Even though she wasn't "young" in human age-terms, she was young in Universal terms—like her husband, her species had been granted the gift of immortality a long time ago; she was forever young, beautiful, and vibrant, thanks to the gift that the Gods had granted to her people. She, and her husband, were far older than any of the known, or preached about people that the humans taught to their young; in just one month's time, she was to turn a hundred and fifty-nine thousand, five hundred, and eleven years old—if one of the present-day humans knew how old she really was, they'd probably not waste a second in tracking her down, capturing her, or in interrogating her on the aspects of the Universe and on the fabric of life. Knowing how the present-day humans acted, she wouldn't put it against their placing her on a table and then conducting a dissecting session—she could imagine it now; her pleading calls for them to let her go would go unheard, they'd strip her of every shred of clothing that she wore then they'd go to work in butchering her body. Her inner parts would be taken out, looked at, examined, tested, photographed, and then tossed in the trash; she shuddered at this thought, then cast it out of her mind.

"Whose the sweater for?" her husband, the mighty KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, asked as he walked into the room.

"Sudir—poor thing keeps saying that he gets cold when he goes outside." she answered.

"Tis that time of year—it shouldn't be but another month or two before that good, ol', warm weather swoops in." her husband said.

The room that he entered was big enough to accommodate him, his wife and all of their children, and around eight to ten other persons; his lovely wife was seated on one of the room's three dark brown velor couches—while the one that was askew from her had a brown bear skin draped over its back, the one that she was sitting on had a brown and cream fur draped over both its back, arms, and cushions; the couch that was to the left of the one that his wife was sitting on had nothing on it. There was enough space between the two couches that were close to one another for one person to walk through; a reclaimed pine wood coffee table was before both couches.

The woman that was seated on the couch, that faced the fireplace, was a pureblood Sketon—a species in the Universe that was typically short in stature, and that possessed a body that was skeletal in appearance. Like the others in her species, his wife had a bone-like appearance to her; the visible bones that he could see were darkly colored. They were either a shade of dark purple or they were black. She had a very feminine, and fragile, physique to her; her hips were very nicely rounded, her waist was nice and trim, and her breasts were quite showy—they stuck out from under the fabric of her dress like pyramids, which he favored greatly. The hair that fell from her skeletal head was both crystallized and a light blue color; it dropped to about the middle of her back. This woman, who had given him six children, four boys and two girls, had no eyes in her face; there were no lips or even ears present on her either. The fingernails that she possessed were manicured; with the exception of the tops, which were opaque, they were a medium-purple color.

His wife, who had been born and raised under the name of Shaiden, was wearing a purple dress that was tight around her breasts; there was a white belt around her waist that had studded spikes on its center. The black-heeled boots, that were on her feet, had studded spikes on their sides. The only piece of jewelry that she wore was on the second to last finger of her left hand; the ring had a purple diamond on it, which was surrounded by a row of normal diamonds—this ring was special to both of them; it was the ring that he had given to her on the day that they had taken the trip to the alter.

"I'd hate to know how it goes in the bedroom," one of his friends had said after he had seen and then taken his wife, who hadn't been his wife back at the time that this had been said, on to be his partner. "No lips or skin—you have Dick Insurance, right? Something that'll give you a new pecker after the old one's "accidentally" gnawed off, or that's been sawed to the point where it can't be used like normal?"

Despite the very noticeable infatuation that he had for his woman, he had worried about this once or twice at the start of their relationship; thankfully, after reading up on the mating habits of the Sketon race, and then talking to his woman about this worry of his, he hadn't had to worry but so much on it. The exterior of the Sketon race was different than everyone else's, yes, but the interior, and the private parts, were very much the same—barely noticeable flesh, and soft muscle, kept him from sawing himself to the point that it was painful to take a piss, or to do any normal-range handling; even though he and she did oral like any other person would, she used just her tongue to give him pleasure by.

Though one would say that their sex-life was handled differently than anyone else's, it was actually almost the same; there were very few differences in how he and his woman, who stood a nice, five foot, four inches, had sex.

"Just let it run through your ears," he said as he took the remote from the table that it was sitting on. "They'll stop in a day to three day's time—the reports have been slowing up the last few days"

"Why does he continue this? Why does he continue to go on with hurting us?" Irka asked her husband. "He knows that all of this hurts us—that it brings up bad memories; it brings up the graves that have been long since buried in the deep recesses of our minds. We don't need this, and neither do Baruk, Kaasa, and Sudir. Thrax doesn't need this either; goes the same with the other youngsters in this family."

There had been eleven additions added to their family over the years; while most of the new members of the family had been born before Angel left with her sons there were three that had been born after the disappearance occurred. Though the intent in dropping their lives, and putting their young in the care of the hired help for weeks—and, sometimes, months—on end, to find Angel after she disappeared had been done in the correct sense, it had still put quite a damper to the new lives that had only just begun with them members of the family. Where's Mommy and Daddy? Why can't I see Grandma and Grandpa? Why can't I hang out with this member of the family or that member of the family that's my age? When are you coming home, Mommy? When are you coming home, Daddy? All of them questions had been asked for hundreds of years before the independently made decisions had been made to go home and then try to piece together and then resume their lives; the watching of the current little ones as they played and acted like one their age had been the start of the healing process while the births of the three, younger members of the family had been the middle-portion of the process. If not for her brother-in-law's constant searching, and unhealthily kept hopes and dreams of finding Angel and her sons, they would of healed fully from what they had gone through.

It had been the women who had done most of the work in getting the men to give it up; she, like the other women in the family, had seen what all of the searching, and not getting anything while doing so, was doing to the young ones. She had seen the tears, had heard the questions, had seen the silent wondering on the faces of her three, current little ones then she had gone to her husband; the act of taking him to the side had been hard, so had the voicing of what he was doing to their little ones in staying away to pursue something that was getting him nowhere, but it had needed to be done. Even though she had been the main one to get her husband to drop the search and return home she had gotten some help from her father-in-law and grandfather-in-law; she, and her husband, had been the second to final ones in the family to still be searching for Angel and her children at the time.

Her father-in-law had pitched in greatly; the efforts that he had put in on his attempts to find Angel had been so grand that they had come very near to costing him his marriage. Her grandfather-in-law had also been a very active member of the search party; a hundred years after his son's involvement in finding Angel stopped, he put an end to trying to find her too. It was his rational mind, and the fact of seeing what all his search was doing to himself both emotionally and mentally, that had caused him to go home. Her two, older sons had stopped searching, her grandfather-in-law's uncle and his family had stopped searching... everyone but her brother and sister-in-law, and their mother and that man that they called a stepfather, had stopped searching for Angel and her sons.

One thousand, six hundred years... they had searched for them for seven hundred of them years before calling it quits then going home; while they had been putting their lives together, and watching their young ones flourish in their own, Tazir had continued on. The shovel that was on their hearts was just digging in deeper, thanks to him; not just she, but everyone in the family was feeling the effects of what his prolonged search and hopes and dreams were doing to them—the pain had never gone away, thanks to him and his damn search. Her husband had been closer than she to Angel; he had written three or four letters a week to her while she had written two—all correspondence from them had been replied to; Angel had never been one to up and get a letter from someone and then dawdle around in either sending a follow-up letter or in not sending a reply. When Angel disappeared, she had taken a part of her husband with her; that missing part of her man was still missing. She felt for her husband; she felt for all of them. Although she felt anger towards her brother-in-law she did know that he, too, was hurting inside. What was one to do after a loved one disappeared? Just sit on the porch and sip lemonade? Drive them long, country drives while whistling loudly?

"Alright everyone, we all know what we're here for so let's get to it." she remembered her grandfather-in-law saying after most everyone in the family had dropped out of the search.

It flashed before her eyes; the long, red sheet, which had been draped over five gravestones—one being the lightest of pink while the other four being a light blue color—, had been pulled back and then thrown to the side. Like anyone else who was attending a funeral, they had lined up and then started the final process of grieving over their lost loved ones. The name, the birth and then disappearance date, the reason behind the stones' being erected, and an epitath had been on each of the stones that had been unveiled.

Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit  
Born: May 15, 1,758,094,008—Disappeared June 20, 2,499,094,008  
Beloved daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, great-great granddaughter, mother, and wife

Bile Vile  
Born: March 6, 1,998,093,408—Disappeared June 20, 2,499,094,008  
Beloved son, grandson, great-grandson, great-great grandson, nephew, and much more

LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit  
Born: March 8, 1,999,093,408—Disappeared June 20, 2,499,094,008  
Beloved son, grandson, great-grandson, nephew, and much more

HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit  
Born: April 23, 2,399,093,908—Disappeared June 20, 2,499,094,008  
Beloved son, grandson, great-grandson, nephew, and much more

LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit  
Born: February 13, 2,499,094,008—Disappeared June 20, 2,499,094,008  
Beloved son, grandson, great-grandson, nephew, and much more

That had been an even harder experience to go through; even though it had been hard on all of them, they had gone through and along with it—in a lot of ways, they had felt a sort of peace fall over them after seeing them stones, with their shiny, black letters and floral decorations on them. That had been their closure; the thing that had told them that it was all over—with the exception of Tazir, who had turned and then walked away after them five stones were exposed, everyone had filed and then done the grieving thing. The searching was over; the constant trips from one planet to another; the fliers being made and then either put up or handed out; the broadcasts and bulletins, all being made in multiple languages; the interviews...she, her husband, and her father-in-law had all hoped that the program would cause Tazir to come around—would have him see the error of his ways. Would let the search go and allow them to experience the final process of healing. Sadly, from what had been going on on the tv for the last five days, and from what was going out in the papers, it hadn't had that desired effect. It pissed her off something awful; the man had problems—deep emotional and mental scarring. She knew he loved Angel and their sons. They all had, and they still did. She also knew that he had allowed Angel to adopt his daughter and that he, himself, had adopted Bile... but that didn't mean that he should continue as he was. He shouldn't be searching for a bunch of ghosts. For folk who had been searched high and low, and far and wide. He should of done as they had in dropping the search, coming to terms with his losses, and then going on with his life.

She had just placed her head on her husband's shoulder when the remote was raised; she groaned as her husband pressed the button that disabled the previous command that she had previously given to the tv.

"Just this Monday, it was discovered that one of the millions of missing people had been discovered not only alive but well—she had also been said to of been captured on security video, the likes of which has been shown on all of the networks ever since its reported leaking to the masses. Although the search for this missing person became slack the past few days, it has recently been given new life after the discovery of two new leads—one which involves new security footage of not one, not two, but three of the five reported missing members of TazirVile Surfeit's family." the reporter, a man who had tentacles instead of hair, and beady, yellow eyes, was saying on the screen. "Sebassie Oligag has all the details on this exciting find. Sebassie—"

"Thank you, Horgav," Sebassie Oligag, a female reporter, who had long, black hair and black eyes, and who looked to be wearing a knee-high, black dress, said after the camera tuned into her corner of the newsroom. "Just this two hours ago it was exposed to the general public that the woman that was seen five days ago, in an establishment called Goggles For All, was also seen in two other locations on the same day that she was seen in the Optometrist building; video footage from both locations has been seen and analyzed by Mr. Surfeit and his team of investigators—Mr. Surfeit was reportably winded by what was noted on the footage that his investigators managed to find for him.

"The cameras in one location, all reputed to be located behind a restaurant called Fine Foods and Desserts, which is said to be owned by one named Aigie Boful, captured footage of not only the woman but also the youth that she was accompanying to Navub Babusa's establishment; not only did the cameras capture the two talking but they also caught a key detail that was very nearly overlooked on the woman—a ring, which is said to be the exact same one that Mr. Surfeit purchased for his wife twenty-one hundred years ago. We will show you this footage now."

Though she didn't want to—she had a sweater to make, and she also had other things to think of and worry over—she watched what was being shown; in a way, her husband, who seemed rather interested in what was being said and shown on the screen, was forcing her to both hear and watch what was going on—she, for the most part, just watched it to get it over with.

By all first-given opinions, she thought that the footage that was being shown was much better than that of what was known to be used by the humans—it was neither slow, fuzzy, or grainy and the sound quality was better than good. When the footage started being aired, she could hear everything that was going on in the background; there were four dumpsters behind a building, which looked to be needing a date with a power-washer. She could see the doors of four businesses and she could also see that one of those four doors was open; someone was in the process of returning to their workplace after taking a bag or two of trash out.

She was about to sigh, and ask her husband to turn the tv off, when, suddenly, a woman appeared on the screen—judging by the way the woman appeared, Irka judged that the camera was mounted on a pole and that woman had come from behind the camera's mounted location. The woman had either jumped a not-seen fence or there was an opening of some sort nearby—either way, she walked out from under the camera; when she turned, both she and her husband gasped. The woman's hair—which was a flaming, fiery red color... which highly resembled that of what their granddaughter had once had on her head—created a backwash of red to occur all over the area that she was in; the camera caught the glow, and the woman's eyes, which were an emerald-green color—while they were barely able to see it, they did notice that the woman had a ring of yellow around a pair of black pupils. The woman, who was around five foot, seven inches tall, gestured at someone, who was behind the camera; after gesturing, she spoke.

"Come on," the woman said.

"What's the big rush?" an unseen person, who sounded both male and young, replied.

"I know you're upset, but we had to do it, now come on." the woman said. The woman took a few steps forward before stopping again; she looked over her shoulder once then beckoned for the one that was behind the camera to come forward again. After doing that, she resumed her trek in going to wherever she was planning on going.

She was really wondering who the woman, who did look quite a lot like her granddaughter, was talking to. After a few more seconds passed, the woman stopped then put forth a firm command—she told the unseen person to come forward, then she gave a glare, then she jabbed her finger at the ground that was at her feet. It was only after she did the final action that the one that she was talking to came forward; Irka was stumped as to who the young fellow was after he appeared on the screen—the youngster looked about six feet tall; he had a lean body build, the likes of which belied his age, which she thought was around fifteen to sixteen hundred years. The fellow had a strong Zetakin appearance to him; his upside down, teardrop-shaped head had two holes where a nose would normally by and an O-shaped mouth in it. The eyes that looked out from his face were circular shaped; the color was very unmistakably silver. The youth had a periwinkle-blue skin complexion, it looked like he had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers and it also looked like he had no ears on him. The horizontal row of brick red hair, that the youth had on his head, was set in a typical C-fashion—everything to the side, it was the youth's hair that told her that he was related to the woman.

The youth was wearing a pair of gray pants, the likes, of which, looked to be ripped at the knees, and a darkly colored netted shirt; there looked to be a pair of darkly colored shoes on his feet.

"Big waste of time. Why do you keep wasting time that I could be using in hiding under a tree, ma?" the youth asked, it was quite evident that he wasn't in the best of moods.

"We had to try, honey." the woman replied. "At least I know how much I need to save up now."

"And how long is it going to take this time? A year? Two? I'm not getting any younger here!"

"Young Man, you'll be young for—"

"Yeah yeah—I'll be young forever. You keep feeding me that shit yet here I am, hiding, ducking, or covering myself up just so my poor, sensitive eye won't pain me." the youth cut the woman off.

"Just give me a little time—I'll do all that I can to get you your glass." the woman said.

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't—might just decide to charge you for all this travel from galaxy to galaxy that you've been putting me through these past few weeks." the youth said. "In fact, I _will_ charge you—a trip to the latrines that the ladies use is my preferred method of payment. Pay up, ma."

"You're a boy—you use the men's room, and you stay away from the ones that the ladies use." even though the woman was stern when she said this, she was smiling; KurukVile chuckled at the youth's words.

"Alright then, how about a simple walk around one of the planets that you've brought me to?" the youth asked. "Say... this one here. Come on, ma." the youth elbowed the fiery red-haired woman then feigned an extreme form of sadness. "Pleeeeeese, I'll be good. I promise."

"Weeeelllll... you have been good this past week—been keeping your jokes on a down-scale so... I guess I can squeeze it in. We'll be back soon."

"Even though the two weren't seen again on that day, they were seen two days later—and with the company of another." Sebassie Oligag said after the footage ended—just before the footage concluded, she and her husband had been able to see the two teleport; the woman had had a smoke effect to her post-teleportation while the youth had a blue swirl effect to his. "It was just an hour and a half ago that it was made known to the public about Mr. Surfeit having a tape of footage that had the woman and youth in question and their tag-along on it—the footage, which was generously given to us for viewing, and possible information gaining purposes, is said to of been compiled from not one, not two, but four businesses. We will show you that footage now."

At first, the footage just showed the odd passerby or two going by then, after two or three seconds went by, the horn of a car was blown, then a cat's meow was heard. A dog had just barked when the fiery red-haired woman walked into view; she stopped, then glanced behind her once, before going on. The woman had only just turned back to facing forward again when the youth from the previous footage walked into view. There were clouds drifting around in the sky; the red sun that the planets of the Zeta Reticuli Galaxy orbited was hidden behind the clouds. There were no shadows being cast. She and her husband heard a few birds calling; they were both in the process of moving their shoulders, of getting a little more comfortable on the couch, when another person stepped into the footage—the gasp that came from the both of them was loud, long, and heavy with shock; neither of them had expected for what they were seeing to appear in the footage.

A male youth, who looked to be around two thousand years of age, walked into view; there was no, absolutely no, doubt as to who he was. Irka, the same as her husband, had seen Lhaklar up to his five hundredth birthday; they knew him a little more than Hazaar and a whole lot more that Lazeer. The youth dawdled behind the unknown youth for a few seconds before passing him by. He went straight up to the red-haired woman that was leading them; they walked side by side for a few seconds before he dropped back.

The youth that she and her husband were gawking at had mint green skin; when he turned in the direction of the street, both she and her husband saw that he had large, oval-shaped eyes—the likes, of which, were Pistachio in color, but that had a nice silverish quality to them too. Like the other youth, this fellow had an upside down, teardrop-shaped head; it looked like he had two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth. This youth had a nice, athletic-looking body build; while he looked fast, he also looked to possess a sort of calmness to him—his walking stance seemed to be spitting _I'm fast, but I'll be slow until that quality of me is needed_. From what she was seeing, she guessed that he was around six foot, one—due to the distance of the camera, she couldn't see if he had suction cups on the ends of his fingers or not.

The youth was wearing a brown and green checkered, long sleeved, button down shirt; the brown pants, that were on his bottom half, looked to be of the formal sort while the brown shoes, that were on his feet, looked half-formal. The older boy stopped long enough to give the boy that was following him a slight push; the younger youth reacted quickly in pushing him right back—one of them boyish games, the sort that was played by two or more persons, who were trying to see who could push the next the hardest and strongest, was played for all of five seconds. The game was put to a stop after the woman called for them to quit goofing around and to catch up and keep up; the two responded by running towards her—even though the younger boy had a quick-snapping action to his run, the older youth passed him by quickly.

"And that is what TazirVile Surfeit, and his stepfather, Cheshire Ubalki, firmly believes is Angel Irene with two of her four sons. There is still no word on who the younger youth is; he was thought to be HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, the two's secondborn son, up to recently but, after a quick checking of family photos, that was swiftly changed. The older youth is firmly believed to be the oldest son by TazirVile Surfeit through Angel Irene—LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit." Sebassie Oligag said. "No new developments have come up yet; Mr. Surfeit, just ten minutes ago, confirmed reports of his taking full-hold of his investigation—"

"Contact Tazzy" Irka said. "See what you can do to assist him in what he's doing."

"Already a step ahead of you," her husband said. The handset of the phone, that's base unit was shaped like that of a spider, which was on the coffee table, was already in his large hand; he was in the process of dialing a number when she took the remote from him.


	8. Chapter 8

The near-week that he had just gone through was one of them weeks that he was hoping to forget in the imminent future; Family Week had just one more day to go before waving goodbye for another year, while he and his had celebrated the holiday they hadn't really been fully in-tune with themselves. With the exception of Tazir and Qeeta, who were both stuck in their own little worlds, all of his adult children had come over to celebrate the holiday with him; his father had also come over—in contrast to his holiday-attending adult children, who had spent half of the week at his place, with him, his wife, and their three, young children, his father hadn't stayed for long; he had spent half a day, maybe two days, in his house before leaving to go home. He, as was natural for any child that was close to their one and only parent, had been sad after seeing him go; if not for his son's "rejuvenated" search, his father would of stayed over longer and he wouldn't of been in such a depressed funk all during his stay.

The program was suppose to end all of this; it was suppose to make his son come to terms with what he was putting himself, and them, through and it was suppose to cause his search attempts to cease—sadly, it looked like the desired effect hadn't taken hold of his son. The program had, in a bunch of annoying ways, given his son's search a new meaning and attitude—he didn't know if his son was blinded by his depression over losing Angel and their sons, or if he was just plain ignorant of the fact that they were gone; by the way Tazir was acting, it seriously looked like both was going on.

Galosa Spiklo had been asking them for years if she could do a segment on her show about their missing family; they had said no on each asking... the idea that the program wasn't needed to be done because everyone in the Universe knew what was going on with them had been thought of at the time, as had the thought that Tazir would, one day, come around in realizing that it was hopeless to continue searching and hoping for her to either be found or to return to him. Kuruk had been the one to suggest that they do the program; as a way to knock out two stones at once, he had said—get the woman from their backs and, hopefully, have Tazir come to his good, but currently hidden, senses.

While having the program done had caused one of the things that had been on their backs to fall, it hadn't taken care of the biggie—his secondborn son, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, was still at it on looking for Angel and their sons.

"In a way, I shouldn't be but so surprised that this is happening—Tazir's always been a bit of a defiant freak." he thought as he went up the stairs.

Defiant and disobedient, actually; while his son had been both before the court order was given out, he hadn't been that hard to handle or straighten out. His son's disobedience had really kicked off at around the time that he returned from Brol; the court order, which had confirmed his sure rights to Angel, and which had granted him certain rights and privileges that revolved around Angel's and Vile's son, had been the thing that had caused his already swollen head to become even more swollen. Tazir, who had been given Angel as a wife by the Universal Gods, and who had been appointed as Angel's Dominant Mate, had been granted permission to say whether or not Vile could see Bile and he had also had say on whether or not Vile could discipline the boy as well. Tazir had also been granted permission to have Vile's visits be supervised at all times; Vile was to not ever see his son without having someone keeping an eye on him or without having someone within his near-immediate vicinity.

Tazir had mouthed off to him plenty; had stood against him, had told him off, had fought him, had made the decision to cut him from his life... he figured that a lot of the reason behind his son's increased disobedience towards him came from Angel—she had been quite a defiant and disobedient one as well. He had really only needed to come within a foot of her to notice the air that she had worn around herself—the over-confidence that had come from her had been high enough for him to notice from across the room, even.

"They had a good run—despite her unhealthy hold on him, they were a good pair." he thought as he started towards the room that he and his wife used during the night hours.

To that day, he was still surprised over his son having enough go to make three, back-to-back sons of his own; Tazir, who he still regarded as weak and spine-less, and who he still thought was snobby, had proved that he had what it took to create offspring with the woman that he had been given as a wife. Just a shame, he thought, that none of them sons had been allowed to mature into teenagers, or be taught the ropes on how to be conquerors.

He had been thrilled after hearing that Angel had taken the leading word of what he had said on the day that her thirdborn son had been born and modified it to being that of what the child would be named; he had taken that as an act of respect towards him. _Hoozah,_ he remembered her saying; _hmmm, remove the o's, replace them with a's, then replace the final h with an r_ — _we have a Hazaar after that's done._ The name pinned to the infant had been good, catchy, unique, and powerful-sounding; he had liked it a lot! HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit; get ready because here comes The Hazaar. Here comes The King; Hoozah, here comes Hazaar—that was what he had said after the name was placed to the child. Everyone had laughed after he had said that while he had been just as quiet as could be—he had been tasting the name... seeing if it fit the child that it had been pinned on and the family that the child had been born into.

His son's disobedience had hit an all-time high after she disappeared with the boys; a lot of unneeded attacking had happened. Tazir had gone after Kuruk and his wife, then he had gone after his grandfather, then he had gone after Trobrencus, then he had gone after Vile, Rita, and Rito, then he had turned his attention towards him; it was only after the latter turning occurred that something physical had happened. Tazir had gone around, saying to most everyone that it was them that had caused Angel to run off with the boys; after turning on him, he had changed his wording around so that, instead of plain accusing him of being the one responsible for Angel's up and leaving, he was insulting him. His son had gone on and on about how he had made three sons in a row and about how everyone—he included in the mix—was jealous over not being able to do the same. _You're only jealous old man,_ Tazir had said before anyone could get control of him; _I made three while you made two. My man's sack showed you and yours up._ Instead of speaking to his son rationally—of trying to calm him down some—he had flashed his fist at him; a type of father-son brawl had happened between them afterwards—if not for his wife, and Kuruk, Tazir would of been rendered unable to walk properly; he, at the time, had come very close to wanting to damage his son to nearly beyond repair, that was how bad their fight had been. He had understood then like he did now that a majority of his son's problem lie in Angel not being with him anymore—he had been hurting too, but he had known better than to turn his pain on him.

What his son had said had been totally out of context; not only did he have four sons—six overall, but four that were alive and well—but he also had a slew of daughters to his name too. Even though his six sons hadn't been born back-to-back, like Tazir's had been, he had still proven himself. He, at his present age, was still fit and able to put out the stuff that made children; he was still proving his worth by being a conqueror, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, and so on and so forth. After he and Tazir were separated, his father had done the rare activity of grabbing his son by the tail of his tuxedo jacket; Tazir had been whisked around, then given two slaps, then set straight. _Look at everyone around you_ , his father had said, _do you see them doing as you are in attacking everyone? Do you see them accusing, or degrading, others? Finding Angel should not include this type of abuse, Tazir. Get yourself together._

Tazir had been thrown to the side; he had dusted himself off, had looked everyone over, then had left the area. While conversation back then had been infrequent, they had heard from him; nowadays, none of them really heard from him. Tazir was barely talking to him now; except for his mother, and that man that he called a "stepfather", he was barely talking to anyone in the family. If they wanted to know what was going on with him, they had to rely on the tv or the newspapers to do so—contacting the man's staff was out of the question; they had either been given orders to be close-lipped on their employer's activities or they were being quiet by their own decision.

"They're doing it again," his wife, who was currently sitting on the bed, said after he entered their bedroom chamber. "More re-runs. More repeats."

"Just ignore them." he said to her.

"How can I when they keep popping up? I've had to turn every tv off in the house today, Duru. If I hadn't of done so, the kids would of seen it all—they would of done their asking on what was going on with their brother if I hadn't of turned the tv's off." after saying this, his wife fell back to the side of the bed that she slept on. She sighed a long, drawn out sigh then looked at the ceiling.

With her lying in the way that she was, it was hard to not take in her beauty, and to not do the calculations on what all had been passed down to their missing great-granddaughter. His wife was a fine woman of exceptional beauty; he had taken to her almost from the moment that his eye had landed on her. He was still right taken with her, and she, from what he could tell, was mutual on that subject—which was why he had been so shocked over receiving her threat. Two hundred years after the search for Angel commenced, he had gotten a phone call; he had been on another planet at the time, doing as most everyone else in the family was doing, when the call came in. His wife, her voice all heavy with sadness and anger, had just let him have it. _You're hurting me and our little ones_ , she had screamed at him; _I have no husband here and they have no idea who their daddy is... by your being out of the house so much, chasing one who is no more than a ghost, they don't know who you are or how good a father you are! If you don't stop this madness and come home, I won't give you the promise that I and they will be here when you get back_. She, the woman who he had fallen so madly for, and who he had left after being swayed by someone younger than he, and who he had remarried after that old spark was rekindled between them, had been serious in this threat; the phone had no more been hung up before his bum found itself to the floor.

Two hundred years of chasing a ghost, she had said; two hundred years of getting nowhere... of finding nothing, except a heart that was growing even more heavier with each beat that his living body commanded it do, that was. Thoughts had started being processed after the threat was received; he had a wife and three young children at home... a seven hundred year old son, a six hundred and eighty-five year old daughter, and another son that was just two hundred and nine years of age... this was the time when memories started, he needed to be there. He needed to be there for his wife and kids; after thinking this, he had closed up shop. His heart had been heavy, and his tail had been firmly tucked between his legs, and his balls had just about felt like they wanted to fall off when the decision was made to call off his involvement in the search. Cyla, and the kids, had been waiting for him; he had come in and there they were... standing all nice and steady by the front of the foyer.

"I grieve for her the same as you do," Cyla had said after they had embraced one another. "This is what she'd want, Duru. She'd want us to go on with our lives, and to be happy."

Even though he had agreed with her, the process of giving it all up had still been hard; sixteen hundred years... he was reminded of her every day—the red hair that he wife had, which was spread all out on the bed behind her head, had been genetically inherited by Angel. Though Angel had gotten a much more extreme variant of his wife's hair, it was very much a-given where it had come from. Whenever he went into the bathroom, then looked at himself in the mirror, he was reminded of Angel too—his eyes, which were a glowing, green color, and which had yellow pupils in their centers, had been passed down to her. She had gotten a shade of his eye color and, what's more, she had passed that genetic link to one of her kids. Two days after coming home, he had found himself contemplating the move on taking each of the house's mirrors down—he had actually come very close to breaking four on the first week that he had been returned to his home. Instead of taking the mirrors down, or shooting his hand at one of them, showering the floor with bits and pieces of glass, and cutting his hand all to hell, he had just closed the bathroom that he had been in. The process of being a man while bawling his eyes out... of letting his grief expose itself, had been done instead.

 _You fuckin' pansy; men don't cry. Boys cry. Girls cry. Women cry. You, a male of the Surfeit clan, who is nearing his two hundred and sixteen, nine hundred, and seventy-fifth birthday, should not be crying! You're a fucking man! You don't cry! You keep it inside; it's been fifty years since you've dropped from the search, you should of gotten over it by now_ —that was what his mind had screamed at him after he had found himself sitting on the toilet, bawling his eyes out, fifty years after his exit of the search for his great-granddaughter and her sons occurred. The first two hundred years had been tough on him; a lot of emotion-expressing had been done in that period of his life—naturally, it had always been done in the bathroom, with the door both shut and locked. Even though he had come close to shedding a few tears over the last six days, he hadn't done any crying in a long time now.

"Duru? Where are you going?" his wife asked after he turned, then started for the very door that he had only just come through. Seeing his wife lying on the bed, and that hair that had been passed down to Angel all spread out on the bed, was too much for him; at the moment, he needed to be somewhere else in the house.

"Downstairs." he replied. "I'll be a few—the kids are already bedded down for the night."

"If you're headed towards the living room, please keep the volume on the tv down." his wife said. She said no more. She just rolled over; by the way her shoulders moved, he noted that she was crying. Not only had the week been hard for him, it had also been hard for her too.

Women sometimes knew things; they had an inner knowledge, or a type of sixth sense, to themselves that told them what to expect or what someone was about to do or had done during some period in the day. His wife, though a bit off in guessing what he had in mind to do, was in the right ballpark over where he was headed. The living room was, at the moment, quiet and empty; it'd be the perfect place for him to go to. He could sit, and think his thoughts, and maybe unwind the stresses that had come over him that week. The idea of going downstairs, and turning the tv on, so he could see the latest juicy bits that were being put on the news, hadn't been a firm one... but it had been bouncing around in his head. Apparently, his wife had noticed the off-idea that he was thinking of doing.

After exiting the bedroom chamber that he and his wife slept in, he went down the hallway; instead of leaning on the banister of the stairs, or descending the stairs while hugging up against one of the railings, he kept himself in the stairs' center. The staircase that he was descending was mostly wrought iron in type, it was also of the spiral sort; a spell had been done many thousands of years ago, all sorts of living ferns and vines wrapped around the spindles and posts—this, he fully thought and believed, gave the staircase a very home-y feeling. Most of his ex-wives had asked for a different style of staircase to be incorporated into the house; Cyla had been the only one of his five wives to not speak much on the house's design, or decoration—not once had she spoken wrongly of the staircase that connected the house's first level with its second.

"Though Angel voiced her opinion on the children getting hurt while going up or coming down the stairs, she hadn't said anything about the staircase needing to be changed or about a new staircase needing to be added to the house." he thought as he finished his descent.

Even though he and she had had their differences, he had been close to Angel. Not only had she been nice to talk to and hang around with from time to time, but she had also been a fine aid when it came to his acquiring specific animals from the planet that she stemmed from. He was a man who liked monkeys and lizards and she had helped him in both acquiring some of Earth's more interesting species and in keeping them happy, healthy, and content—the Mini-Pygmies, or Finger Monkeys, as he called them, were the favorites in his pet-primate collection; the black Centralian blue-tongue skinks were the favorite in his collection of lizards.

Soon after discovering that the black lizard was a male, he paired him with female; quite a many offspring, most of which having a very intricate pattern on them, while others had either been dull, or nearly albino, or black, had been born from that one pairing. Of the offspring born in that one breeding, he had just kept the intricately patterned ones and the black ones; the others he sold—he was the one responsible for introducing a new type of pet reptile to Gamma Vile's pet trade. The Finger Monkeys required no hands-on care when it came to breeding; they bred almost like mice... he had found himself nearly up to his neck in Mini-Pygmies in a little under five years time. There was a small lot of folk who had Mini-Pygmies as pets now because of him; six or seven zoos also had the Mini-Pygmy on exhibit now. Over the years, he had managed to keep his Finger Monkeys down by either finding and then castrating the males or by doing a simple process of eliminating most of the male animals that he owned. Angel, in each of her letters, had asked how he was doing, how his lizards and monkeys were doing, and about how his wife and children were fairing; she had also gotten on him a bit for his not being able to be reached, or for the lack of correspondence that she got from him. He sent her maybe one to two letters a week; one to two phone calls a month would happen between the two of them; and, of course, they saw one another on a near three to four month basis—even though the constant get-ons about his lack of correspondence from her had been annoying, he hadn't gotten on her but so hard about it; having a wife to look after, kids to raise, pets to look after, galaxies to keep up, and himself to worry over had taken up a lot of his time, so he hadn't really been distancing himself from her or trying to make it seem like she was the back-burner girl. Even though their relationship as great-granddaughter and great-grandfather hadn't started off well, it had smoothed out; they had moved past their misgivings and they had done the forgive and forget thing.

"As we should have." he said aloud. "While I'm perfectly fine in doing the turn-cheek thing, and in totally disregarding someone for something that they did, I'm not fine in doing that with a member of the family. Angel was as much apart of me as my wife and kids are."

Since his place was quite large, it took him nearly four minutes to find and then get situated in the living room. The room that he had only just entered had two couches in it; both were green, but only the one that he was sitting on had black, vine-like designs on it. The couch that was perpendicular to him had moss green pillows resting on its arms while the one that he was sitting on had no pillows on it. The room had a dark green-colored lounge chair in it too; the rocking chair, that his wife usually sat in when she was knitting or sewing, was behind him and just slightly to his right—the stump-based table, that was beside the chair, had his wife's sewing and knitting kits on it.

The fireplace, which was both huge and made of quartz stone, was quite old; it was one of several items that had been in the house before he was born—from what he had been told, his father's father had gotten the piece built right after getting the heating system installed. There were all sorts of skulls and bones hanging from the fireplace mantle; the mantle shelf had more than a dozen photographs of him and his family and animal skulls on it. Above, in the ceiling, were row upon row of small, red lights; at one time, there had been a good many torches on the walls. His father had gotten most of them taken down; the rest had been removed after the place was put in his name—it was a nuisance to light each and every one, and it was also annoying to have to remember about having to down the flames before heading off to bed or leaving to go to some location that was far from home. The concern over his house burning down on him while he was away on business, or in bed sleeping, had been big enough to warrant the remaining torches to be removed from their accustomed places on the walls.

There was a brown-tan carpet on the room's floor; the walls were a faint mauve color while the ceiling was a little darker mauve color. The coffee table, which had a black-glass top on it, and which was between both of the room's couches, had a black and gold French phone on it—the few books, the address book, and the remote to the 100" screen, which sat off to the room's right side, were just the standard items that one would find on a table of this type. The room's screen was placed on a thick, and well-strong, brown oak entertainment center; the surround sound system, and its speakers, which were placed to either side of the screen, was considered, by him, at least, top-notch equipment. On one of the entertainment center's shelves sat two boxes—a bulky, black one, that was strictly for playing VHS tapes, and a smaller, slimmer one that was strictly for DVDs.

He was a man who loved his music—the stereo system, that was on another stump-table, which was directly beside the entertainment center, had a volume dial on it that went past twenty. The two cabinets that were on the entertainment center housed his many record albums and music discs; a glass window showed each of this lot to anyone who wandered into the room. A sort of bookcase sat to the center's left; all of the VHS tapes and DVDs that he had in his possession were in alphabetical order on it.

"Get it over with will you?" he mind said to him. He wasted ten seconds in simply staring at the walls around him before finally reaching forward for the remote. He was only mildly aware of how cold he felt when his hand finally wrapped around it.

The button on the remote was pressed; the usual zap, followed by static, was heard. Nothing but blackness was seen for two seconds before the screen started taking on the colors of the news that was being shown. It was only after the screen had taken on the full spectre of colors of what was being shown that he gave the command for the device to be unmuted.

"TazirVile Surfeit, as of the last few days, seems to be on a roll with his investigation," Sebassie Oligag was saying. "Just six hours ago, he was noted as moving the status of the woman that he saw six days ago from being his probable wife to his assured wife; it looks like he'll be moving the status on his wife from deceased to living here and soon and, from what sources have told me, it looks like the status on one of his sons will also be updated as well. As we all know, Mr. Surfeit acquired video footage of the woman in question to be his wife, and the unknown youth that she was seen with at Googles For All, and of a youth that is strongly said to be his firstborn son two days ago—just this thirty minutes ago, Mr. Surfeit was approached by a civilian who had managed to capture footage of the three noted persons in a park on the same day that the prior footage was shot. From all appearances, and from what sources abroad have said, this footage, which we have been given a copy of, and which we will show you soon, is genuine. Here is that footage now,"

There was a problem with the network; the footage refused to play correctly, which caused the ones running the network to pull it for a few seconds. While they worked out their bugs, he thought about Angel's sons.

He hadn't really been able to get to know Lazeer; he had been born so fast, and he had been so sickly... he, like the rest of his family, had just decided to let the parents have as much time as they could with him. Hazaar, now he had seen him being born, and he had been there to see him be raised for the one hundred years that he had known him—even though everyone had been agasp about his ridiculous tail of hair, he had been annoyed by it. It had made his grandson look stupid, and girly; he had asked Tazir more than once to snip it from the boy's body... his son had always come back with a no on each asking.

Women, in his opinion, were suppose to have long hair; while there were some men out there that looked good in long hair, he still thought that the ones of his gender should keep their hair cut short and kept nice and trim. Hazaar's tail of hair had grown to being about two inches long by his hundredth year of life; he had asked his son if his desire in keeping Hazaar's hair intact on his body was his way of trying to make him be a girl once, Tazir had come back with saying that he wasn't—though the question on cutting the boy's hair-tail off hadn't been asked, Tazir had still voiced his not going forward in removing his son's hair from his head.

Lhaklar, though shorter, and thinner, than Bile, had been a strong kid... and he knew damn well how to climb! If he recalled correctly, Lhaklar had once beat his father to a tree, and then in climbing it—Tazir had been chasing the boy after he had said a bad word. By the time Tazir had gotten to the tree, and had started going up it, Lhaklar had reached the uppermost branches. He couldn't really remember if his grandson had been wicked smart in his primary educational lessons or not; it was just the boy's climbing abilities that he remembered well.

Bile, now he had been one to be proud of. Tall; while he hadn't been big in girth by any means he hadn't been thin either—he had been a rather decently-sized kid. While he had been a bit slow in his primary educational lessons, he had sure known how to throw some punches. Vile, the boy's real father, not his adoptive father, had been the recipient of most of his given punches; whenever Vile grabbed him, intending to give him a little discipline for something that he had done or said, he had found himself getting a nasty surprise—a small, but tightly woven, fist to either the gut or to the groin had done the man in on each of the occasions that he had grabbed the boy.

Duru was just starting to wonder how Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar would of turned out had they of gotten the chance to grow up when the network's bugs were fixed. His thoughts ceased happening after the footage started being shown.

"Tazzy, Tazzy, Tazzy," he said after the footage started off with just showing an area that was covered in halfway decent—halfway lush—brown and yellow grass. The occasional person or two could be seen walking by; a path could been seen leading away from the area that the camera was being pointed at. He guessed that it was about to rain—there was a heavy overcast going on in the area where the footage had been taken. "If this is all that you're able to find in your "searches" then you need to—"

The person that was keeping the camera steady had the camera pointed at a large, oak-like tree; there were bushes all around the tree... each and every one of them were swaying back and forth maniacally. It was almost like a hidden wind of some sort was causing the bushes to go crazy. He was just leaning forward, to see what was going on with the bushes, when two people appeared in the footage.

"Okay, you've got your camera focused on two kids." he said after leaning back. "There's dozens of them around; no need to get antsy over the antics of two kids that're obviously just throwing their time away in playing some foolish game."

His tone was automatically changed after the one manning the camera zoomed in; the footage became grainy for a second or two before clearing up. His jaw just about dislodged from his face after he saw what it was that the camera-person was so focused on.

The shorter youth, who looked to be around six feet tall, was pushing and chasing after the other youth, who, from all appearances, looked older than he. The two kids pushed one another for a short while before the older one ducked behind the tree; it was only when the camera panned in on the remaining kid that he was able to see what he looked like—he had periwinkle-blue skin; an upside down, teardrop-shaped head, which looked to possess two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it; and it looked like he had a single, horizontal row of bristly-looking, brick red hair going around his head. The youth had no noticeable ears on his head; the eyes that were in his face were of the circular type—the bright, silver color of the kid's eyes was unmistakable!

The youth was wearing a pair of red pants, which were ripped at the knees, and a light grey colored, netted shirt; there looked to be a pair of brown shoes on his feet. DuruVile was thinking that the kid was nothing special; why his son was so interested in him was beyond him. He was just bringing the remote up, so he could change the channel, when the camera-person zoomed out then panned over to the left.

"Call the cops and quick—it's against the law for normal-day kids to partake in playful park antics." he thought as he finger reached down for the remote's channel selector.

There was a flurry of activity from the dark orange bushes to the left; the leaves and branches were swaying to and fro madly, and the dirt that was behind the bushes was being thrown all over the place. His finger had just been placed on the remote's channel selector button when the older youth charged out from the bushes; the boy ran from the bushes then he went straight for the younger kid, who he picked up then started "throwing around". The camera was zoomed in greatly; the antics of the "wrestling" duo were captured on film in grand detail—detail, of which, he found himself greatly interested in. He was just wondering if the one manning the camera could pan in a bit more, so he could see what all the older boy looked like, when the camera was pulled to the right. It was this action that caused the remote to be dropped; even though he fought to not shout, he did put out a loud gasp—the likes, of which, his wife was able to hear.

A woman, who looked very much like his great-granddaughter, right down to having her fiery red hair, walked out from behind the tree. She looked at the two youth's, who had since put a temporary halt to their wrestling, then she shook her head; she was just giving the area around her a good looking over when the camera zoomed in on her. Duru just about lost himself after seeing the woman up close—she was spot-damn-on to being that of his great-granddaughter! Emerald-green eyes; about five foot, seven inches tall; and hair that lit the entire area around her... that was what he was seeing. Due to the camera's distance, and apparent lack in further zooming power, he couldn't tell if she had a golden-yellow ring around the pupils of her eyes, which looked black, or if the ring that she was wearing was that of which his son had given his wife twenty-one hundred years ago.

Before he could say it... before he could say that the woman looked like his great-granddaughter, the camera panned over to the older youth.

"Lhaklar?"

His mouth dropped; either what he was looking at was a near spot-on twin of his grandson or he _was_ looking at his grandson. The older youth, who looked of the Zetakin people, right down to having two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth, had mint-green skin and large, oval-shaped, Pistachio colored eyes—thanks to the camera's current zoom, he was able to see that them eyes had a silver quality to them, which really caused them to be quite shiny. The youth had an athletic-looking body; it looked like he was clothed in a brown and green checkered, long sleeved, button down shirt, brown pants, and brown shoes. When the fellow stood, he was able to estimate that he was around six-one in height; he was able to see that the youth had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers.

Just as DuruVile was thinking that the youth looked very similar to his grandson, LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, the cameraman began fidgeting; the camera moved several times, it was jostled around some. The youth that the camera was trained on was either attracted to the cameraman's antics or he had heard something that he had to check out; once he saw the camera, and the one manning the camera, he yelled then gestured in its direction. The red-haired woman, when the cameraman panned over to her, rushed at the camera; the person behind the camera got a good shot of her before either losing his footing, or doing something that caused the camera to drop from what was holding it up. The camera managed to catch the woman sliding to a stop, then rushing back to herd the two boys away, before dying.

"Upon seeing the footage that was just shown to you all, Mr. Surfeit demanded that the death certificates of two of his missing family be brought to him—the certificates for Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit and LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit have, reportably, been shredded. With his wife and one of his sons being seen by not one but several credible witnesses, he says that it's clear that the two are not only alive but that they're also very healthy. He also says that the older youth—Lhaklar—looks to be acting in the way that one of his age should." Sebassie Oligag reported. "Efforts are now being made for the two's capture—there is still no word on who the other youth is; he was thought to be HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit until very recently. Mr. Surfeit has asked for anyone in the Universe, who has information on the three persons of interest that we have shown you these past days, to contact him via his personal cellular phone, which we will show after this rep—"

The reporter was cut-off in mid sentence. He stood; fatigue had suddenly washed over him after the screen was turned off. With it heading on eleven-thirty, he did need to head to bed for a few hours. While the idea of calling his father, to tell him what he had just seen on the tele, crossed his mind, he decided against it—Pubba wouldn't want to be disturbed and he would definitely not want to see his only surviving son falling into the same pit of despair that everyone else was.

He went upstairs; his wife, he was quick in noting, was already asleep—sometime between his gasping out, and his turning the tv off, she had succumbed to her own fatigue. Instead of waking her, of arousing her from whatever world she was busy in being in, he left her alone. After entering their bedroom chamber, he set to work in removing his clothes; his black chiffon shirt, which had a ruffle and decorative gold buttons running down its front, and Victorian-style, wide lace sleeves, that had narrow cuffs on the ends, was thrown to the room's one chair. The knee-high, black-colored pair of pants, which were tied at his knees with a set of matching garter strings, were taken off next; his black shoes, and his slacks, were removed afterwards. With that done, he reached up to remove the ear-piece from his left ear—the piece that he was taking out was special; his father had given it to him right after graduation from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic occurred. He cherished this old family heirloom; he and his father had had their rough times, but they were as thick as rain. He put the ear-piece in its silver case, which was lined with a red velvet material, after taking it from its accustomed place in his ear; after placing the piece in its box, then closing the box's lid, he turned to join his wife in bed.

"Boy would it be great if that woman is Angel, and boy would it be even greater if that mint-green fellow turned out to be Lhaklar." he thought as he slipped under the sheets. "Who in the dickens in that other kid, though? I agree with the reporter on his not being Hazaar—that youth and Hazaar just don't match-up with one another."

Before drifting off to sleep, he remembered the description that had been placed in the books about the Zetakin race. They were a tall race; their skin came in an array of colors—blue and green was the most noted of the race's skin colors, while medium to dark orange was also noted to occur in the species; it was rare for a Zetakin to be born with light yellow, dark yellow, red, or tan skin. A Zetakin that's born with having hair on its head will keep the hair in that general area; it never grows out or away from the area that it stems from. DuruVile thought of Qeeta, his daughter through Ashaklar, who was a pureblood Zetakin—she had been born with soft, black hair all over her head; after maturing a bit, her hair had grown out, so that it was long, like a woman's. Even though his daughter was a hybrid between a Zetakin and a Vilian, she did match the species' description. Hazaar had been born with having a deep purple tail of hair sprouting from the nape of the back of his head; that tail of hair wouldn't of grown out or migrated to other parts of his head, nor would it of changed colors either.

Zetakins were also known to have an eye ailment called S.A.E, or Special Ailment of the Eyes, which use to be called P.S.E, or Photo Sensitive Eyes. While Qeeta hadn't gotten the ailment, her brother had—Ashaklar had the ailment in both eyes but, instead of wearing glasses, like a mass majority of Zetakins seemed to do, she wore contact lenses to protect her eyes from the sun's rays.

He wondered for only two seconds if either of the two youths that he had seen on the footage had the ailment before realizing that the red-haired woman had been spotted as going into an Optometrist's building with the younger boy. This realization had only just come to him when his eyelids dropped; as he slept, he dreamed of the what he had seen on tv.


	9. Chapter 9

As she went by her morning routine of making breakfast for her and her family, and for the two others who had come over for a surprise visit, Cyla couldn't help but feel a bit miffed. In her mind, the holiday that was to end at midnight tonight had been a horrible one; though she and hers had celebrated the holiday, and had openly welcomed the kin who had come over for either a short tenure or for a prolong one, they hadn't really had fun, or felt happy, during the celebrating process. That year's Family Week hadn't been a good one for her; she put full blame for how her week, and holiday, had gone on the one that her husband had sired from the woman that he had gone and married after divorcing her during their first go as a couple. If not for him, and his idiocity in wanting to continue with looking for Angel, she would of had a much better week.

Even though she was mad, she composed herself well enough to not break the shells of the eggs that she was about to put in the pan; a wife and mother, and mother-in-law, wasn't suppose to feed her family food that had extra matter, that could well hurt the bellies that worked to digest the normal food that was put in it, in it. If not she, then the hired help was suppose to cook good, nutritious food for the ones that lived in the house; no sicknesses, like food poisoning, or embarrassing diarrhea, or accidental blockages that could well cause one to need a surgery, had ever occurred in her home since she had resumed living in it and, by golly gosh, was she ever going to try her best to keep it that way. The pan nearby had bacon in it; the oven had a cooking sheet in it—not only was her family to have bacon for breakfast, but they were to also have fried ham too. Since there were seven in the house, she used the entire carton of eggs—which contained about twelve eggs inside; she contemplated grabbing two other eggs from one of the crates that were in the kitchen's storage area for a few seconds before grabbing the wooden spoon then going to work in making the frying eggs become messy.

The coffee pot had already made its amount of coffee thirty minutes ago; her husband, and their oldest son, and his wife, had a cup of Joe already. What she was making for everyone would do more than tide them over until the next meal-hour came around—no empty, or half-empty, bellies would be allowed to roam her home on this morning; everyone in the house would have a good, hearty breakfast before heading off to watch tv, or play outside, or train in the gym, or conduct governmental affairs.

"Something smells good in here," the oldest of the second batch of children that she had had with her husband said after he poked his head into the smaller of the house's two kitchens.

"Won't be long until what you're smelling goes into your belly." Cyla said without turning, or missing a beat in flipping the bacon.

Even though she and her husband had tried their best to keep what was going on in the Universe away from their children, she did fear that they knew what was going on—the oldest child from her second batch of children by her husband had managed to read one of the articles in the paper a few days ago; he had asked a few questions before being told to snap his trap shut. As far as she, and her husband, knew, he had said nothing to his siblings of what he had read in the paper. She was glad for this because she was one who liked to keep order well-maintained in her home—if Gaajah had gone around, spreading what he had read in the paper about what Tazir's search was "bringing up", order would of surely been lost. She was a strong woman, yes, and she liked to consider herself the one who kept everyone in line—her husband included in the mix.

The thought of keeping her husband in line caused a smile to appear on her face—the man that she was married to really needed no one around to assist him in keeping his head on straight; he had been raised by a great father, who had done all of the raising himself, with having no female companion around to assist him, and he had also trained and tutored him as well. Her husband had been cared for, protected against a plague—the likes, of which, could well of killed him—, and he had also been disciplined by the very one who was half-responsible for his being in the Universe; she had as much respect for her husband as she did for his father—though this respect had, at one time, been a shaky thing to give. She hadn't been sure of the man who had sired her husband once; she hadn't much liked how close the two were to one another—her father had always told her that it was typical for a child to be close to the parent opposite them in gender; her husband had been the exact opposite of that, since he had been close to his father instead of his mother, and since he hadn't had a mother around in his youth. Her father had also said that a child that didn't have a more equal relationship with its parents had a tendency to gain bad habits and behaviors later on in life; she and Duru had raised their three, older children by watching for the signs that her father had preached about—they had both been involved in their raising; all three of their adult children were close to both of them equally and none of them had bad habits or exhibited behaviors that could well cause their and their parents' and siblings' reputations to fall. They were doing the same thing with their current young ones now; all of their three, younger children were well-balanced in how close they were to the both of them and not a single one of them had any bad habits or showed any bad behaviors.

The prepping of the morning's meal was done quickly; the slabs of ham were taken from the oven, cut into halves, then quarters, and then placed on one of the seven plates that lined the nearby counter-top. A helping of scrambled eggs was placed on each plate, then all of the previously made slices of toasted bread was placed on a separate plate. She placed all of the cooked bacon strips on another plate then gestured for a nearby maid and butler to come assist her.

Plates were moved from the house's smaller kitchen to the main dining room; bowls of oatmeal and porridge and jars of jelly, peanut butter, and honey followed soon after. Gaajah was fast in leaving the kitchen's open doorway; he led the way to the dining room then took his place at the table. His father, who was seated in his accustomed chair, which was located at the table's front-lying end, was busily talking to Kuruk and Irka, who were practically leaning over his shoulders. She took her place at the table's opposite end; her husband was in the process of grabbing one of the toasted pieces of bread when the oldest of their current young children spoke.

"I need dad to get me a bed built in the kitchen," their son, GaajahVile Vulbub Surfeit, said. "That way I can dig in before you scrubs do."

"Who you calling a scrub?" their daughter, UevaaVile Saibi Surfeit, demanded to know. "Best not be calling me that because I know a certain someone who keeps leaving the toilet lids up in the bathrooms."

"Hope you showered before you came down—your face looks like it needs a good scrubbing." GaajahVile replied.

"So does yours." UevaaVile shot back.

"You two are insane, and both of you need a scrub of the face." their youngest son, SelikVile Oan Surfeit, spoke loudly. "Though it might not do neither of you any good—I'm still the handsomest of us."

"In your dreams, Brother." GaajahVile and UevaaVile said together.

She couldn't help but beam in pride at the oldest of her current set of children; GaajahVile Vulbub Surfeit, who they, the rest of the family, and his few-made friends called just plain Gaajah, was a near-fire duplicate of the first child that she had birthed by Duru. She had come close to crying after he had come out; the resemblance to Arkhe was just awe-striking... she couldn't help but wonder if she had been given a second chance to mother the child who had died before his father could even see him.

Gaajah stood a tall, six foot, two inches; the light blue skin that he possessed had come from her. Even though he had a normal-sized head, he had his father's ears—even though they just barely poked out from the sides of his head, it was unmistakable that they had come from the man that was responsible for his creation. They were a little darker blue than the rest of him and they had just one, Tiger-like stripe on them, which was black in color. Really, the only thing that set Gaajah apart from Arkhe was his eyes—Arkhe had been born with having beady, solid green eyes; Gaajah's eyes were an exact replica of his father's... they were a glowing green color, and they had tiny, yellow pupils in their centers. His body build was very unlike that of his father's and older brother's; it was lean, the immature muscle that was on it made him look physically behind in development—which she knew he wasn't; Gaajah was very on schedule for one his age.

The shirt that this son of hers was wearing was a faint blue color; the light silver buttons, that went down its front, had been made out of real silver, the ruffled cuffs, that were on the ends of the shirt's long sleeves, were currently tucked into the ends of the sleeves that they were on. The pair of dark blue pants, that he was also wearing, went to just his knees; the garter strings, that were tied around the ends of his pants, kept the ends of his pants from flapping about loosely. The shoes, that were on his feet, were a nicely buffed up black color; there was a buckle on the sides of each shoe. Not a single hole or wrinkle could be seen in her son's slacks.

At the moment, her son was just two thousand years old—many thousands of years younger than his older full-brother.

"Behave yourself you three." DuruVile said without looking up from what he was looking at.

"Yes dad," the three children said in unison.

Cyla looked at her two younger children, who were quick in both quieting up and going back to their breakfasts. UevaaVile Saibi Surfeit, who went by plain Uevaa by pretty much everyone she knew, was the only survivor from her sixth pregnancy; she had been pregnant with twins on that pregnancy and she had also been said to of been carrying a boy and a girl. At the secondth month of her pregnancy, heartbreak set in—the bigger of the twins, the boy, had been lost; if not for being placed on bed-rest for the rest of the pregnancy, she would of lost the girl too. Uevaa had been born on the fifth of December; even though it had been a scorcher outside, it had been nice and cool inside. Her daughter had been a small thing—despite her small size, she had been a trooper. She had only had two sick days after being born then she had gotten strong and fast.

Uevaa was what she and Duru called a perfect blend of both parents; the long, dark auburn colored hair that she possessed had come from her while her daughter's bi-colored body had come from Duru. The left side of their daughter's head and body was silver while her other half was a dark yellow color. She had no ears on her head; her eyes were a dazzling shade of glowing blue, the yellow pupils that were in their centers contrasted quite well with that color. Uevaa stood a nice, five foot, nine inches; she was wearing a long-flowing blue dress, white slacks, and medium-blue, low-heel shoes; even though she had a healthy interest in female cosmetics, she wasn't wearing any—she wasn't allowed to wear or even do any experimenting with the stuff until she was older. At the moment, Uevaa was one thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-five years old.

While all of her children had been surprise pregnancies to her, her youngest child, SelikVile Oan Surfeit, had really been a surprise; she hadn't expected to get pregnant and neither she nor her husband had been trying to get pregnant either. Her youngest child had been a big baby—he had weighed almost seven pounds at birth. Upon being born, she and Duru had noticed that he had horny stubs on his head; now, one thousand, six hundred, and nine years later, them horns had grown out some—they were now ten inches in length; the rings, or bands, that were on them were quite deep. Her son's horns were a dark red color; they had three twists to them. Selik, much like Uevaa, had bi-colored skin; the left side of his head and body was dark red while the right side of his head and body was fully silver—instead of having his father's elongated ears, he had elf-like ears. The eyes that looked out from Selik's face were oppositely colored than his father's and older brother's—a bright glowing, yellow color, with green pupils in their centers. His fingers had long, and sharply pointed, dark silver fingernails on their ends; he stood exactly six feet tall. There was no hint of muscle on his lean body—which, given his age, she thought was very appropriate for him.

Selik was wearing a crisp, white shirt that had a series of ties going down the neck area; his moss green pants went down to just his knees—the matching garter strings, that would normally be tied around the ends of his pant legs, weren't in place. Selik had either been slow in getting up that morning or he had decided to "slip" doing the little dressing requirement that his father instilled on him. The pair of dark green shoes that were on his feet had a large, gold buckle on their tops; Selik's slacks were a little wrinkled up and untidy on him.

"What's that, daddy?" Uevaa asked after seeing the photograph that was being given to her father.

"It's nothing," Cyla answered before her husband could answer. "It is nothing and no one."

Her husband, Kuruk, and Irka all looked at her; while nothing was said between the four of them, it was quite obvious that they were all thinking the same and that she was trying to sway them from doing what they wanted to do—which was expose what they were doing, conversate on Angel, and bring the kids up-to-date on things.

Gaajah and Uevaa had done plenty of asking about Angel's kids; after Angel ran off with her children, she not only took a piece of her husband, and family, with her but she also, in a lot of ways, took Gaajah's and Uevaa's playmates too. Even though she felt bad for issuing that threat, the one where she had promised her husband that if he didn't come home he might not find her and the kids waiting for him, she also felt like it had been done in the right fashion—Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik had been missing their father; she had been missing her husband; and it had been way past time for everyone to just come to grips in accepting that Angel and her young were gone and that they'd never be found again. Since Selik had been too young at the time when Angel ran off with her sons, he hadn't been able to get to know them; he had especially been ate up with his grief over not having his daddy around back then.

Even though Angel had been closer to the men than the women, she had still kept in contact with the female members of the family—a letter a week would come in the mail from her; she'd read it, take in its wording as best she could, then issue out a reply... which, five times out of ten, wouldn't be given the follow-up reply that she had hoped it would. She and Angel had also had one or two conversations on the phone a month—even though her relationship with her great-granddaughter hadn't been the grandest, or the best, of sort, she had been close to her. Though a small part of her still clung to the hope that the girl, and her four sons, were still alive, she was trying to move on in life and she was also trying to get her family to do the same.

"Daddy..." Uevaa said again. Instead of having his wife cut-in on him, DuruVile answered his daughter and quickly.

"It's a photograph, Uevaa." DuruVile said.

"What kind—does it have a city full of tall, bright buildings, or a waterfall or lake, or a large meadow full of horses in it?" Uevaa asked.

"It has someone in the family in it." Uevaa's oldest brother, KurukVle Shonsinu Surfeit, answered.

"Who?" Uevaa asked.

Cyla stared at her husband and oldest child hotly; instead of being quiet, and keeping what all they were so highly interested in to themselves—or putting their interest away until after breakfast was done in being eaten—, they were speaking freely of what they were looking at. After two minutes of simply staring at the two, and at Irka, who seemed to be plain enjoying the fact that she was being ignored by everyone, she sighed then stood up from her chair. She went towards the three of them; if they were to be so rude in conducting "business" while everyone was eating then, maybe, she could make good example of them by giving them a small embarrassing or two.

As she went forward, she was instantly reminded of the feelings that she had felt after seeing the woman that her husband had grown so enamored with during their first round in being a couple—she had become jealous and scared almost out of her wits end after finally getting the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Ashaklar. Jealousy over the fact that the woman had managed to slip Duru from her arms, and that he had done things with her after the divorce had been finalized, had been felt; anger over what the woman had flat-out refused to do with Duru, and over her attempts in thwarting him and his disciplining, training, and schooling of Tazir and Qeeta, had been felt next, followed by the fear that the woman might try to sway Duru from her again.

Luckily, for her, her fears over Duru being taken from her hadn't needed to be expressed—the Husband Stealer had been married to someone else, some man by the name of Cheshire Ubalki, who she really thought looked no more than a wet blanket than a man, and she had been quite taken with that someone. After the fear period lapsed came the despising—she despised Ashaklar and that husband of hers to a T and she did believe that the two of them, and Duru, knew that. Even though Duru hadn't meant for it to happen, he had come in contact with his other ex-wives too; just casual talk was done between them when the chance encounters happened—questions such as hey, how're you doing; what have you been up to; and how many kids have you had with such-and-such would be asked, and then answered, before the two parties went their separate ways. Over the years, she had learned that she didn't have a thing to worry over about her husband straying from her—if he had done so, or had been meaning to do so, he would of done it a long time ago.

"Can't really tell if she has them rings around her pupils or not in this one," her husband was saying to their oldest son.

"No, but in the other one, you can definitely see them." their oldest son was saying.

"With the exception of her not having them rings around her pupils in that one, the woman in both pictures is the same." Irka, her daughter-in-law, was saying.

"Spot-on. Very spot-on." her husband said after giving his head a nod.

The man standing to the left of her husband had, in a lot of ways, been "stolen" from her; Irka, her dear daughter-in-law, had taken the man who she had worried to death over for the first fifty years of his life before calming down from her near bone-crunching embrace. Kuruk was the perfect example of what she and Duru were trying to do with their current young ones—he was smart, he had a better than good head on his shoulders, and he was close to the both of them.

Kuruk, who had been given the name of KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit right after being born, but who went by plain Kuruk by everyone that he came in contact with, was more than just big and burly—his body was heavily stacked with ample amounts of muscle; the veins that crossed over the muscle that was on his arms stuck out quite prominently. This son of hers stood a nice, six foot, four inches; like his father, he was bi-colored—the left side of his head and body was red while the right side of his head and body was white; the stress wrinkles, that her son had on his head, were darker than that of their counterparts. They were either a dingy white color or they were a dark red color. Her son's elongated ears went only half the length of his shoulders; they were a gold color, and they had red, Tiger-like stripes on them. His fingernails were long and sharp; they were also purple in color. The eyes that looked out from her son's face were a fiery red color; the pupils, that were in the centers of them eyes, were black.

Kuruk was wearing a black tunic, the likes, of which, had a black belt around the waist, and black fur on the shoulders, and a pair of black pants; there were black boots on his feet.

"Looks very healthy... wonder what she's been up to all these years." Irka was saying.

"A question I think we all want to know." DuruVile said in return.

While her husband wasn't as well-muscled as Kuruk was, he was muscled and strong in his own right; while Duru had taken to her right away it had taken her a few dates before finally coming around to being just as taken with him. Even now, with him being two hundred and eighteen thousand, six hundred, and twenty-five years old, she thought that he was the handsomest of the handsome. The man, when standing, was a good six foot, three inches tall; he had a lean body build, the likes, of which, had good, hard muscle on it—her husband's chest, stomach, and back were thick in muscle while his arms and legs were a little more slender in comparison. If one wanted to know what kind of life her husband had gone through, all they'd have to do was look at his face—it was hard, and it had a nice, experienced look to it. His eyes, which were a green color, and which had tiny, yellow pupils in their centers, also spoke volumes on how experienced he was. Her husband, who had been given the name of DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit after being born, but who went by plain Duru by everyone that he came in contact with, had the "standard" Surfeit bi-colored body—the left side of his head and body was silver while the right side of his head and body was black. Her husband's elongated ears ran the full length of his shoulders; they were a silver color, the Tiger-like stripes that were on them were black. The nails that came out from the ends of his fingers were long and black; each had been filed to a sharp point.

Like so many other things of her husband, she adored his dress sense; he looked so fine in just about anything. At the moment, he was wearing a slate gray, long sleeve shirt that had a frill going along the neckline; the pants that he was wearing were black and went to just below his knees—the dark gray garter strings, that bound the ends of his pants to his knees, were doing their job to perfection. His slacks were non-wrinkled and his dark gray shoes, which had a double-buckle on their tops and sides, were just as buffed up and shiny as ever. The ear-piece, that hung from his left ear, was catching the early morning rays of the spheres rather well, as was the gray silk lace cravat necktie that he wore around his neck.

"Haven't seen that picture of Angel before." she said after finishing her trek to the three that were being so rude that morning. Instead of chiding them, or giving them the embarrassment that she wanted to instill on them, she found herself both looking at the photograph that was in her husband's hand and talking about it. "Who took it?"

"Mother, this is a still from a security camera. Angel's been sighted several times on Zeta Ren, and on other planets in the Zeta Reticuli system." her oldest son said.

The desire that she had to embarrass the three of them was zapped clean from her system; she sighed, then turned to go back to her place at the table. When the program had been green-lit for shooting, she had thought that all of this madness with the searching and hoping for Angel to be found and then returned home would stop; it looked like the program had only given her husband's son, who was, technically, a stepchild of hers, an incentive to increase his efforts to find Angel. Sadly, it looked like her husband, their oldest son, and their daughter-in-law had been claimed by the mess that Tazir was causing—the fact that she had come close to being sucked right on in with them made her want to scream for the heavens; while the thought was flattering, she refused to do so. What would screaming for the heavens do anyways—other than make her look like a crazy person, that was.

She was in the process of leaving the three be when her oldest son gave over two more photographs; her eye landed on one of them for a micro-second—which was all she needed to both stop and then return to standing over Duru's shoulder. After returning to her prior position, she gasped then reached for the top-lying photograph that had only just found its way to her husband's hand.

"This is Lhaklar." she said.

"That's who we think it is as well." KurukVile said.

"No, there's no doubt on who this is." Cyla said. "This is Lhaklar. The skin color is the dead giveaway, so are the eyes—he got the shape from his father, but the color came from his mother; his body type and the rest of his physical appearance also came from his father. Where was this taken?"

"Zeta Ren, yesterday." Irka replied.

Her husband did as he was suppose to do after she took a step from him—he got up, turned, then went to her. The act of trying to calm her down, and to give her a bit of comfort, was done to perfection—all she could do was think of Lhaklar, and of how his father had acted whenever it came to Duru coming over for a visit, while he comforted her.

Even though she hadn't gotten to know him personally, his father had been going through one of them _oh my daddy is going to hurt my kids, I need to protect them from the big bad daddy-wolf_ phases at the time, she recognized who it was that was in the photograph quickly—Angel had sent her pictures of her first son by Tazir once every month; he had been a fine boy and, even though she had thought that he was a bit stunted and thin for his age, she had thought that he had been growing decently.

"I'm fine, Duru. Quit it, I'm fine." Cyla insisted after her husband tried to "escort" her from the room.

"You sure, look a little peckish in the face." DuruVile asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." Cyla said. There was another photograph on the table, right where her husband had once sat at; she went over to it, picked it up, then looked it over for a few seconds in silence. "Who's this?"

"Good question—the woman that Tazir thinks is his wife was seen with him several times; he was also seen play-wrestling with... Lhaklar on Zeta Ren late yesterday afternoon." KurukVile said.

Duru, who was currently at her elbow, keeping a good eye on her, claimed that the photograph that she was looking at was from a security camera—it was the first-known photograph taken of the youth that Tazir knew of, he said. For a fleeting second, she thought that she knew who it was that was in the photograph—the young fellow would be a dashingly handsome man one day, she knew that right off the bat; from all initial opinions, she thought that he looked spot-on for one of the Zetakin race. He had periwinkle-blue skin and an upside down, teardrop-shaped head—which had the Zetakin trademarks of two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it. The single, horizontal row of hair that went around the sides and back of the youth's head was bristly-looking and brick red in color. His eyes were circular in shape; they were a bright, shiny, silver color.

After nearly a minute of wondering who the fellow was, Cyla shook her head; no she didn't really know who it was—the idea that was floating around in her mind was neither said or even given a full thinking; her family would think her crazy if she ever spoke of her assumption on who she thought the youth in the photograph was.

"Tazir's trying to find out who he is," Irka said.

"At first, my brother thought he was Hazaar; he changed his mind on that a few days ago." KurukVile said.

"I can tell you that the girl in that one photograph is Angel, and that one of the youths is Lhaklar." Cyla said. "I'm stumped on who the other youth is."

"The guy that got them on camera, play-wrestling in Zeta Ren's Park Di-Anobee, said that they acted very brother-like with one another. He was planning on just setting up his camera to take pictures of the park's many birds—after taking his camera out to set it up, he heard the sounds of two "brother-talking" one another; he claims to of had a near heart attack after seeing who it was that was talking." Irka reported on what she had heard on the radio while on the way over to her in-laws' house. "According to the man, when the red-haired woman approached the boys, they stopped their playful antics then started calling her their mom or ma."

"Could Angel of..." Cyla gulped. She felt horrible for saying this, but Angel had, as a matter of fact, run around with a different man for a long stretch of months before; to her, her great-granddaughter did, in a few, small ways, have a history of running around on the two men that she had become married to. "Could she of had an affair after she disappeared? Had an urge, then found someone—a Zetakin—to couple with, who helped her in creating the younger fellow?"

"Possible, quite possible." DuruVile said. "But she seemed very loyal to Tazir..."

"Urges make people change." Cyla said. She said nothing more. Even though her mouth was just as dry as could be, and even though there was a foul taste going on in her mouth that just about robbed her of wanting to eat anything of what was on the table, she went back to her seat at the table, then sat down, then resumed the task of eating her breakfast.

As Cyla resumed the task of consuming her breakfast, which had since gone half-cold on her, he and his brother went on with that day's mid-afternoon activity—even though they were men, and loathed them long, drawn out shopping trips that women liked to partake in, they were glad to be out of the house and doing something that didn't revolve around sitting before the tv. It was just he, his mother, and Efagti; his younger siblings, Qeeta, and Eshal were all at home, either playing around in the yard or doing some chores that had yet to be done, while Tazir and his father were out, dealing with the investigation and looking for leads.

The investigation had, in a few ways, disrupted certain things that went on in his family's life; thanks to how he and his brother were just lazing around by the tv, the normal-day activities had gotten a bit neglected—their father had started getting on them for their neglect two days ago; they had managed to tear themselves from the tv for a few hours before finding themselves back before it again. The shows that Efagti sometimes watched during the early afternoon and late night hours had been missed; he had totally forgotten about watching the new episodes that were being aired of his favorite tv show, The Files of 8, for the last six days—unless an emergency was going on, or he was especially busy with the farm's and house's chores, he almost always watched that show. His mother, who was currently on the next aisle over, browsing the many feminine wears that were on the rack, had really been the only one in the house to keep up a somewhat normal routine—even though she had gone back and forth from the tv, she had also kept herself busy with doing the house's chores and with looking after the ones who lived in the house.

He couldn't help but look over the rack at her; he had always thought of her as a beautiful woman—that thought didn't cease now.

The woman who had gone through a fourteen hour period of labor with him was a tall one; her body was quite petite for one who had given birth to eight children while her breasts, which were medium-sized, and which did make her look a little unbalance, showed that she had given birth to more than four children. Her arms were long, and ended in hands that had suction cups on the ends of each of their finely feminine-formed fingers. Her eyes—large and oval-shaped—were a bright silver color; she possessed the same head-shape that most in their species possessed—an upside down, teardrop, which had two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it. She was currently wearing a long, light purple dress—the belt, that was around her waist, was the same color as the dress, as were the shoes that she had on her feet. The silver chain, that was hanging from around her neck, had a heart-shaped pendant on it that was made of authentic sapphire; the thorn-like designs that were on the pendant had been made out of synthetic silver.

Pop had been the one to give her the necklace; it had been a present, one of many that she had received over the course of the last six days, from him.

It was natural for one to think of their mother as the most beautiful woman in the Universe and he was no different. Beautiful, smart, kind and understanding, patient, and, when she needed to be, authoritative—that was his mawmaw.

"Don't know of one who can best you." Amadh said as he moved away from the section of the market that he, Efagti, and their mother were shopping in.

His mother was preoccupied with checking out the market's available dresses and other feminine wears while Efagti was just checking any old thing that caught his eye—at the moment, he was engaged in conversation with a woman who looked around his age; he guessed that his brother's market-interests revolved around gaining the temporary attention of a woman or, quite possibly, someone to have a one-off date with. He, on the other hand, had something else in mind to browse through. There was a magazine rack in the store's far back corner; all sorts of comics, magazines, and second-hand books were on display there. He went to this area of the store then started checking out the items that were available for the store's clientele.

While he wasn't as interested in comics anymore—as a young boy, and early teenager, he had gone through a comic-crazy phase where just about any comic in the newspaper was read and then clipped and kept or where the comic books in the stores would be bought, brought home, read, then kept for a small duration of time before being thrown out by one of his parents—he still had a mind to check into the few-noted comic books that were on the magazine rack. The first comic that he picked up, then began reading, was a Captain Sploo one. This comic was about a superhero that rescued women from men who wished to do them harm. He read through this comic quickly—though accepting of the concept, he thought it was quite boring—then he reached for the one that was behind it.

The book that he was reading now was one of them Munk-a-Bunk types; it was about a scientifically created monkey who had managed to escape the lab—he was said to be very sentient-like in appearance, and he was also said to be extremely smart. This character could talk, read, and do algorithms—the strips in the book showed that, during the day, he was disguised as a college professor; at night, the character was the school's ultra mean, yet cool, security guard. He read through the book's first six pages before putting it down; although he was okay with cursing, he wasn't one for reading or even hearing one using but so much of it—the book that he was just now putting back on the rack had a lot of cursing in it, which was why he had no further interest in it.

The next book that he picked up he intended to keep as a potential purchase; it was a joke book that revolved around what certain people said when they're on the can. He was in the process of taking the small, sixty or so page consisting book from the rack when a young Zetakin walked up beside him; the youngster took the Munk-a-Bunk comic from the rack then opened it without saying a word to anyone around him.

"Might not like that one," Amadh said to the youngster. "Has bad words in it."

The youth said nothing in return, which, at the moment, he was perfectly fine with. Even though he was a comical type of person, and a person who liked being social, he could get a bit rude and cold towards others from time to time; he started giving the youth the cold shoulder right after he didn't acknowledge his presence. He went back to looking through the rack's many available items; he had $80 in his pocket, half of which he had a mind to use in the market. He grabbed two other books—1001 Really Stupid Jokes and The Best Joke Book (Period)—then turned to leave; the youth had since read and then returned the Munk-a-Bunk comic and then left his company. A hunting magazine had been taken from the rack just before he left—magazines in this section were a little more than the comics, about two whole dollars; the comics were just a dollar. The joke books that he had a mind to purchase would cost him $5; if he had gotten them from a bookstore, he would of paid a lot more for them. The store that he was in was something like that of what the humans called a Flea Market; it was a free-for-all place where one could fine a bargain deal on an item that would otherwise cost them an arm and a leg.

After choosing his books, Amadh decided to head someplace else; he was heading towards the section where there looked to be some household items, like clocks, knives, pots and pans, and the such, when he happened on the youth again. Instead of getting an uninterested side-view of him, he got a full-view that caught his attention immediately.

"Hang onto these for me," Amadh said as he walked by Efagti, who looked to of had no success in gaining himself a one-off date with the woman that he had been speaking with earlier. The three books that he had on him were slid into Efagti's basket; Efagti gave his head a slight nod then went back to browsing through the tools that he had just found on one of the store's shelves.

He really didn't notice his brother's mild acknowledgement of his request; the youth was what had his full attention now. He looked very spot-on to the youth who had been seen in them many security tapes that Tazir had. The periwinkle-blue skin; the single, horizontal row of brick red hair that went around his head; and them circular-shaped, silver-colored eyes all matched up to what was on them tapes. Even though the kid had gone and done a wardrobe change—he was now wearing a pair of plain, unripped or torn blue jeans and a green and blue, two-tone, t-shirt—he knew that he was who he thought he was.

He weaved by a crowd of four men, and then through three woman who were just standing in the middle of the aisle, before coming to a stop; the youth was right in front of him now. All he had to do was reach out, grab or tap his shoulder, then ask him the question that he wanted answered. The youth was in the process of placing the magazine that he had taken from the rack down when his hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to look at him almost at once.

"What?" the kid, who, he noticed, had that same, gruff, hoarse-sounding voice that the youth on the video tapes had, said.

"You look familiar—have I seen you on the news lately?" Amadh asked.

Efagti, who, indeed, had been trying to acquire someone for a one-off date, and who hadn't been successful in doing so, looked up right when someone yelled _thief_ ; even though he missed the verbal altercation that happened between his brother and the youth, he didn't miss the youth running from the store. One look was enough to tell him that Amadh was pursuing the youth and that the youth was the very on that had been on all of them security tapes; he gave his basket to his mother, asked her to keep watch of it, then tore off after the two, who were just now nearing the store's front.

The youth turned on a dime; Efagti was quick in noting that he was both fast and that he had a very fast turning action to him—if the boy hadn't possessed that nice, turning action, he would of been spilled to the sidewalk and they would of caught him. After exiting the store, the youth ran down the stretch of sidewalk then, again, using that same, fast-turning action, turned towards the nearby alleyway. He had since caught up to Amadh; the two of them rounded the alley's corner then ran straight for the youth, who was now going for the closed fence that barred others from the alley's way back. The youth leaped onto the fence, then climbed it, then vaulted over its top like it was nothing; he and his brother tried their best to imitate the boy's efforts. They landed on the fence's other end right when the youth reached a woman, who was standing in the fenced-off alleyway's center.

"Angel!" Efagti exclaimed right when he and his brother put the brakes on. Dust and dirt flew all around them; the woman, who's hair was as flaming-red as could be, reacted quickly after seeing them.

The woman, before they could say or do a thing, grabbed the youth then swung her arm around. They dissipated quickly; the cloud of smoke that was left in their wake dissipated within seconds. Efagti looked at the spot where the two had once stood for a few seconds before going forward; he always carried a bottle of water on him—that way he wouldn't have to stop and blow money on some machine, or a stand that was charging a ridiculous price for a simple bottle of water. The bottle that he had on him had been emptied nearly an hour ago; thanks to the current temperature and humidity, it was as dry as could be. It would be the perfect thing to use to contain the dirt that the woman-youth pair had formerly been standing on.

After reaching the spot where the woman-youth pair had been standing on, he stopped then stooped down; he unscrewed the bottle's cap, then collected enough dirt for a viable sample to be taken from, then re-capped the bottle.

"I just asked the question of whether he'd been on the news lately," Amadh, who was breathing a little on the heavy side, said behind him. "He said 'hell no, lemme alone', then ran off."

"There a reason for why the word 'thief' was said at the store?" Efagti asked.

"Yeah—he still had the magazine that I saw him take from the store's back-rack on him. He ran off with it still on his possession."

"We in agreement as to who we saw?" Efagti asked as he and his brother started to exit the alleyway.

Instead of answering the question presented to him verbally, Amadh, who was experiencing a bit of a dilemma with catching his breath, just nodded his head.

"Think Tazir will want to know about this, you have the phone with you?" Efagti asked. Amadh responded by taking the cellular phone from his back pants pocket; he gave it to his brother right before they started the chore of climbing the alley's fence.

The next few hours for him and his brother were dauntingly boring; they were asked to go to the local police department after returning to the market then, after reaching the place that they had been requested to go to, they were asked to give a statement on what they had seen and then, about twenty or so minutes later, they were asked if they could provide a sketch artist the details of the two that they had seen at the conclusion of their chase. They were fully cooperative with the department's questions and requests; the boring part of their stay at the Baf-az police department started after all of this was done. Even though they showed valid I.D.'s that showed their accurate information, they weren't allowed to leave until after one of their parents came by to retrieve them. It took their father two hours before finally showing up; Tazir came with him. Due to the water bottle having been given to the authorities, Tazir had to sign a paper for it to be handed over to him; after getting the bottle, then doing another question-and-answer session on him and his brother, he asked if he could do a small, exploratory session with his Telepathy on one of them. Efagti was the willing party to have said small, exploratory Telepathy session done on him. They were allowed to go home after this was done. Tazir made a pit-stop at the market; even though he didn't know who the youth was, he was a sport in paying for the magazine that he had been seen as running off with. He and his brother, having had enough for one day, went straight up to their bedrooms after getting home. They were just two hours in on a nap when their brother returned to the house; even though they didn't mean for it to happen, their nap spanned for the rest of the day and for most of the night. When they woke up at 2:35 a.m., they found that a new development had surfaced in Tazir's search—sometime during their prolonged nap, the woman that they had seen had been sighted again, but on a different planet that was in a different galaxy; while a youth had been at her side at the reported sighting, it wasn't the youth that had yet to be identified. The two were said to of been seen three times, and in three different locations.

The law on the planet that they had been sighted on had managed to follow and then corner the two by the back of a closed-down restaurant; the law, which had been acting on behalf of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, had been in the process of coming forward to claim the pair when the youngster turned. The boy, who was said to be their brother's oldest son, Lhaklar, was reputed to of said _let's get out of here, mom. Bach to Ear..._ —the woman had been quick in both shushing the youngster and in teleporting them from the area. Even though the word had been cut-off, the deputies on the planet were sure that Lhaklar had been about to say Earth.

They returned to bed soon after hearing this report; sleep, though hard to come by, was achieved for a few hours before they got up. The usual, morning's lot of chores were handed out right after breakfast was consumed; thanks to Tazir being off in another part of the house, and the large amount of chores that the two of them had been given, neither he nor Efagti were able to speak to him about the new development that had come up in his search.

"Where'd you send them?" Eshal asked after seeing her two uncles leave the house. She and her father had only just started talking about what had surfaced in his search last night; all talk between them had ceased after Efagti and Amadh had shown up in the hallway. Now that the two were out of the house, she was hoping to continue with their conversation.

TazirVile placed his cup of coffee down on the mahogany bench, which was situated near to where the house's foyer was, then reached into his slate gray tuxedo jacket; a nicely folded map was taken out from his jacket's inside pocket, then unfolded, then shown to his daughter. He had already told her about his sending a hundred of his Goblin troops to Earth; he had been in the process of telling her about the set location that he had sent them to when his brothers ambled by.

"It's a national landmark called Expedition Island—it's located in the state of Wyoming." he said after pointing at a mass of green, which symbolized an island, that was neatly sandwiched between two, what-looked-to-be rivers.

"Why'd you send them there?" Eshal asked.

"You know that bottle of dirt that your Uncle Efagti collected yesterday." Eshal nodded her head. "There was a collection of silt in the soil that your mama and that youth were standing on that's consistent with the soil that comes from that area."

"How big is this place? Is it big or small?" Eshal asked.

"About twenty acres—it's surrounded by the Green River." TazirVile replied.

"You think mam will be there?" Eshal asked.

"There's a possibility that she might be there." TazirVile replied. "Doubt if they were just passing through—even though it's open to the public, I doubt if she was just passing through."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because there were three layers of the soil from that location in the sample that Efagti collected yesterday. All older than the first." TazirVile said. He then started to explain what his team of investigators had found. "One layer of the sample that your uncle collected is five days old, the layer below it is three days old, and the layer that's below that is the most recent one—only a few hours old."

Even though the area that revolved around investigation bored the socks off of her, she had seen enough shows on the subject to know that, sometimes, it was the soil that told an investigating group where the probable suspect, or missing person, had previously been at. Either a signature would be left behind or a type of sample would be unconsciously retrieved and then left behind somewhere; when the latter happened, someone in the investigating team could do a trace-back to where that person had previously been so to see if the missing person was in that location or to see what activities had been done in the location that the suspect had been traced back to. If enough soil was left behind, it could well tell if the person who was responsible for it being left behind had been in the area where the soil had originated more than once. Though a boring subject, she was glad for it to of been brought up and she was double glad that her uncle had been smart in collecting what her mam and that boy had been standing on—if not for the latter being done, they'd not know where to conduct a ground-based search at or where to look for her mam.

Unlike her father, who had been catching a nap here and there, keeping himself fresh and alert between goes in looking over the compiled information that his search was accumulating, she hadn't had an easy week. Even though she had been keeping herself busy with the chores that her Gramma gave her to do, and with doing the odd and end things that she came upon that needed to be done but that could always wait until a later date, and even though she had been writing in her diary and watching the video discs that she had brought along at the last minute, she hadn't been able to get it out of her mind about how her mam and brothers were doing and about where they were. The phone in her Grampa's place had constantly been going off that week; her Gramma had answered it on almost every ring that had come in—if not for her playing the old eavesdropping routine, she wouldn't of found out what she had. The other members of her family had started chided her daddy over his search attempts on the first few days of that week then, just two days ago, they had stopped calling to do that; Uncle Kuruk and Aunt Irka, and Grampa Duru, looked to now want in on the search. These members of her family, who she hadn't really seen these past few hundred years, but who she had spoken with on the phone when holidays or her birthday came around, had said nothing about apologizing for their previous actions in chiding her father, or for their insulting him at every chance that they got; they had just said that they wanted to help in looking for her mam and the two youths that she had been seen with—she knew well how her father felt about them. They had abandoned the search... had stopped looking for her mam and brothers a very long time ago. She, like her father, felt betrayed by that action of theirs.

Whether they knew it or not, she was very much like everyone else—she had feelings, which could get hurt. Like with her daddy, they had hurt her with all that they had said on her mam and brothers; the betrayal that she felt by them had very nearly caused her to drop out of Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and she had also come extremely close in saying that she didn't want to go to the University of Telepathy. Instead of dropping out of the former school, she had roughed it; two hundred and fifty years—fifty years extra for a few more courses, and to show that she was trying her best to be strong on both the inside and outside, had been done before graduation occurred. The three hundred years that she had spent at the University of Telepathy had been even harder; she had come close to grabbing the phone in her dormitory and then calling her father up, to tell him that she didn't want to stay and that she wanted to come home. Graduation from both schools had also been hard—just seeing that it was her father, and not her father, mammy, and brothers, there to cheer her on, and be a sort of support system for her, had hit her in a right tender spot. Grampa Duru, and his wife, Cyla, "wouldn't" allow themselves to be at either graduation and, really, neither had Uncle Kuruk and Aunt Irka or Grampy Shaam—along with abandoning her mam and brothers, and her daddy, they had also abandoned her.

In fair truth, she was holding onto a sort of hope that her father would say no on Grampa Duru helping with finding her mam—she knew that the man saw her as a failure; she had overheard him one day on the phone... he had said that she was a dud for only being able to do Energy and Acidic powers. _Nothing special_ , he had said; _just a normal girl with normal powers_. That had hurt her greatly; here was her grampa, who she had grown up being afraid of, at first, then had turned to loving and now here he was betraying her with his disgraceful words. Her opinion on him, along with her "bond" to him, had dropped to next to nothing after that conversation was heard; she wanted him no where near her now. In her mind, if he thought of her as a "dud" then he surely wanted nothing to do with her. Her daddy, the only man that was blood-related to her who seemed to truly care for her, had stuck up for her; he had said that what her grampa had said was a lie and that he should be ashamed of himself for saying it.

She loved her mama; she would always love her. She had been the only mama that she had and, for her to be gone, it had hurt her; now that she was known to be alive, she felt as if one of the missing pieces in her life was about to click back into place.

"Wonder if the other missing pieces of me will return as well." she thought as she watched her father re-fold his map.

She remembered that she had been a good, ol' little pest to Bile when they had been little—the follow-around routine would happen; she'd tattle on him for just about anything; she'd sometimes pick on him, or make fun of the way he talked or dressed... the memory that suddenly came to her almost made her cry. One day, when Bile had been three hundred and eighty-one years of age, she had noticed that he was "slipping" his vegetables under the table; she had ratted him out on this, then daddy had told him to collect all that he had slipped from his plate and then take it all to the kitchen. When Bile returned to the dining room, he had found a new plate, with a whole new helping of vegetables on it, waiting for him. Bile would sometimes go hours without talking to her after each tattling session that she did on him. She had tried to plant a playful kiss on him one day; he had run off, yelling _cooties! Daddy, Eshal's trying to give me the cooties!_ Eshal smiled at this; just the memory of her little brother, a big boy at that time, running away, throwing his arms up in horror at her attempt in giving him a playful kiss, was hilarious. The next attempt, she had actually kissed him on the cheek; he had acted like he was getting sick then he had dropped to the floor of the living room, faking having died from the fabled cooties that she, his three hundred and one year older sister, had given him. Well, if Bile was found to be alive and well, she'd have plenty of "cooties" to give to him—the first thing that she was planning on doing, if he was found to be alive and well, was wrap him up in a hug; the act of leaping up, and then planing a large smooch on his cheek, would be done next. _Mmmmwah, enjoy the cooties, Little Brother_ , she would say; _now that you're back, you will be getting them every day_.

"Even though he got his just-gots discipline from time to time, Lhaklar had been a good little brother." she thought after her father's map was returned to its pocket.

While Bile had been one for going around the yard, saying that he could lift that rock, that fallen-down tree, and that horse clean off the ground, Lhaklar had been one for "stealing". He had been notoriously famous for doing the snatch and then run routine with the newspaper every morning and he had also been one for taking frequent trips to their father's library. She remembered that she had once caught him glancing down when he had been at the table one afternoon; she, who had been seven hundred and ten years old at the time, had been fast in yelling _Lhakie's eating a book instead of his lunch, daddy._ Daddy had said _Lhaaaklar, hand it over,_ which had gotten a hilariously guilty look from her little brother. After Lhaklar's four hundred and eighth birthday, his "book-stealing" hobby had evolved to include the horror genre that was in their father's library; one day, after reading such a book from front flap to back, he had said a bad word. He had been outside when this word was said; daddy had been asking for him to come in and he had just turned around and said _fuck no,_ which had thoroughly pissed their father off. Besides being a "stealer" of the house's books, magazines, and newspapers, her little brother had also been quite the fast tree-climber. On the day that he had said the bad word, he had tore off to the nearest tree in their father's backyard; by the time their father had gotten to the tree, he had already reached its uppermost branches. Regardless of his climbing skills, he had been a bit of a slow runner—daddy had been fast in catching, and then placing him over the old Spanking Knee, when there were no trees around for him to climb.

She had tried her little cooties thing on him a few times; she had leaned over and then kissed him three times—all it had gotten from him was his bringing his hand up to wipe the area that she had kissed and then his saying _gross, keep your girlie-germs to yourself_.

"I tried my best to keep my disappointment over Hazaar being born a boy instead of a girl down after he was born." she thought as she waited for her father to speak again.

She had wanted a little sister badly; after finding out that mam was pregnant, and had a little girl in her, she had been thrilled. A little sister to grow up with; to gang-up with in keeping their brothers "in-line"; to bug their brothers crazy with; and to have someone who had interests that were similar to her own... that was what she had wanted. A sister, not anymore brothers, but a sister; when the supposed girl, her said-to-be little sister, had been born a boy instead she had asked if there was a way for him to be returned—or for a sort of exchange to be done, so she could have the sister that she wanted instead. That had gotten a glare from her father, and an _Eshal!_ from her mam. She had sort of teased baby Hazaar in secret; saying that, due to the tail of hair that he had on the nape of the back of his head, he had inherited a girl gene and was really a boy-girl instead of a regular boy. By the time he had turned fifty years of age, she had already started calling him her BroSis.

Like her father, she had been thrilled when another baby was conceived; she had done the asking thing again. Is it a girl? Please let it be a girl. She had, initially, been disappointed after that baby had been born a boy; her disappointment had turned to fear right after word had reached her about her new brother being "sick" and about his not being able to leave the hospital for a while. She had prayed to the Universal Gods; saying that if they made him healthy, and kept him alive, she'd never ask for a sister again. She had said that she'd be happy with all the little brothers that she had and with all of the little brothers that she'd have afterwards.

Lazeer had been just that of what she had been told he was—sick, and extremely tiny. When he was brought home, he had still been sick and tiny—he had weighed only three pounds, he hadn't moved around much, and he hadn't done much crying either. She had done what her mammy and daddy had—spend as much time with him as she could. When he had lived past the two days that the doctors had given as his life expectancy, she had wondered if her praying was working; she had been sure of this when he had lived to four months of age. She, like everyone else, had been all smiles and ever grateful for his survival—by the time she began to wonder how he'd react to her teasing, her mam and little brothers had disappeared.

"You planning on going to Earth today?" she asked after it had been quiet between her and her father for five minutes—which, to her, was much too long a silence.

"Only if my troops find something." her father replied quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

Zing, Zing! Zing, Zing!

When the bell went off, telling him that he had a visitor, he, at first, wanted to remain where he was. After a few seconds of simply standing around, wondering who was at the door, and whether or not he should go to see who he could see off his property, he left where he stood then went straight to the foyer. His staff, just four days ago, had been given the order to not allow anyone into his home; if anyone was to be let into his house, he was to be the only one to admit them. Just a day and a half ago he had seen his son, his oldest grandson, and his granddaughter-in-law off—by simply taking note of who they were then simply walking away; the door hadn't been opened, and no word from him had been said. The three had simply been left all by their lonesome outside. Fifteen minutes later, they left; up to now, no one else had come by to see him.

His phone was currently off the hook—anyone who called got the busy signal—and he had been purposely keeping himself from diving into the mailed letters that came in from his family; he, in a lot of ways, had become a recluse. While he had known that the program might spark a mild interest in reporters, who might want to get the updated news on how everyone in the family currently felt about Angel's and her sons' disappearance, he hadn't expected for such a frenzy to happen or for his thirdborn grandson's search to be given a whole new lease on "life". It had taken him all of three days before finally deciding to hold himself up at home, disconnect all of the phones, and down-power most of the house's main tv's. While his cellular hadn't had its battery pack removed, he had stopped in answering any and all calls that came through that as well; if not for the feeling that had told him that the text that had come in at eleven o'clock four days ago had come from his uncle, he wouldn't of noticed his uncle's text or even said that it was okay for him and his family to come over to spend the rest of Family Week with him.

Like when Shlock's Plague blew through, he had hid himself well. He had made himself scarce, and he had made the house up tight so that not even a breeze could get in. No one, from reporter to family, could look in to see what all he was doing; he, his uncle, and his uncle's family had all had a good, pleasant, four days.

After reaching the foyer of his home, then stepping up to the decorative, carved-wood door, he pulled the white curtain that was over the door's diamond-shaped window to the side just a bit then peeked out. At first glance, he saw that there was just one person standing by the door; a quick scouring told him that she was alone and that she hadn't taken a car to get to his place. After a few seconds of wondering if he should let her in he decided, just for the hell of it, to open the door then see what she wanted.

"Cyla?" he said after undoing the door's two locks and then opening the door.

"Hi, Shaam." his daughter-in-law, who he now saw had a folder in one of her hands, said. "Are you busy? I'd like to talk to you, if it's not too much trouble."

He gave it a good ponder for a second or two before nodding his head; the door to his abode was thrown open, Cyla walked in, then the door was shut, and then promptly locked, behind her. Once she was inside, he started the process of leading her to the living room—the room that they were in was large, yes, and octagonal in shape, but it wasn't appropriate for conducting any of the business that his daughter-in-law seemed to want to do with him. The foyer had light green tile on its floor; there were headbusts of each of the founding male members of the Surfeit family in each of the room's corners; the walls and ceiling were a moss green color. While the walls had light green and milky yellow vines painted on them, the ceiling was just a plain, moss green color. The walk down the hallway took just two minutes; when they reached the living room, Cyla wasted not a second in making herself comfortable, or in opening and then sifting through her folder's contents.

"Poor Lass," he thought. "Instead of being here, concerning yourself over something that's been long-gone, you should be at home, tending your kids and my son."

The room that she was sitting all by her lonesome in had warm, rich brown walls in it; a light brown strip of wood was placed at every eight inch intervals. A large, dark green and black rug, that had light green floral designs on it, was in the room's center; the main furnishing items that were in the room were neatly placed on it. The room had three couches in it, all of which were a predominant dark blue color, and all that had light gray, gash-like designs on them; a thick glassed coffee table sat between the couch that his daughter-in-law was sitting on and the one that was across from her. Each of the couches had matching side tables by their arms—the one that was to the left of Cyla, and the one that was to the right of the couch that was across from her, had a hand-carved ashtray glued onto its surface; the other two side tables were bare of anything.

A black chandelier hung down from the ceiling, which was a near-brown color; black candles and diamonds on strands hung from it—the diamonds were catching the chandelier's light quite well;

a right shiny glow was showered out from them. There was an occasional torch or two on the room's walls; the single, copper vases that were under them caught the oil that dropped from them quite well.

The gray marble fireplace, which was in front of all three of the couches, was a fine piece of work; he, who had overseen the work done on this room, had made sure to have the contractors handle the building of this item with utmost care. The fireplace's mantle housed most of the items that one would expect for it to house—many photographs of him and his family, a few scented candles, and a spell-enchanted, flowering vine. A 50" screen was mounted above the mantle; the remote to this screen was in the center of the room's coffee table.

"Such a large room and you're the only one sitting in it, how strange is that?" he asked himself as he went forward to sit beside Cyla.

The old house that he had been living in when Duru was growing up—which happened to be the same one that he and his son had weathered Shlock's Plague in—had just been signed over to his son when the residence that he, his daughter-in-law, and his uncle and his family were in had been removed from the real estate market; he, its purchaser, had seen it one day about a month before the sign-over occurred. After a quick, long-distance checking, he had placed the call to see if it was available and to see how much the building, and its adjoining acres, cost—the hefty price-tag to the side, it had been a good place for a bachelor male, who had just made his only son the only resident of a household by in-trusting him with the old home, to live in. He hadn't really had a chance to put his special stamp to the place; a few months after buying the place, then getting it somewhat appropriate for him to live in, he had taken a trip—the likes, of which, had really been doomed from the start. If not for that trek, and its resulting chaos, which had cost more than fifty lives, and which had cost him his health, and him making the decision to take that potion that had put him in Limbo, he would of been a longer resident of the place—and it wouldn't of gone to shambles, or cost him over a hundred thousand dollars to fix up after returning to the Living World, either.

Even though the process of re-integrating himself into society had been hard—the task of re-learning how his body, and muscles, worked had been the easy part while the more difficult part had involved his learning how to go by the current world's laws and regulations, and on how to use the technology that most everyone was using, and, of course, on how to cope with the folk who had been born after he had made his trip to Limbo—he hadn't stopped himself from becoming fully integrated in it. Instead of just dropping off the grid, and living as a sort of hermit for the rest of his life, like some of the others who had been brought back from the realm that he had been in, he had embraced the second chance in having a life; this embracing of his second chance in having a life, and of being able to move freely among the other flesh and body forms of the Universe, had garnered him more than enough respect by others and it had also gained him a title—the likes, of which, he still had to that day. The title of the Most Eligible Bachelor in the Universe had been given to him almost immediately after he returned from Limbo.

Being back in the Living World was great; with the exception of a few things, he was still living very much the same as he had been before that potion was consumed. Having and dealing with the everyday antics of grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren was one of the few different things in his now-life—before taking that potion, he hadn't had any of those to worry about—while the issue on how he regarded his lived-in staff was really the only thing that he had ceased in doing. Before going into Limbo, he had done as most everyone on the rich scale had in giving certain members of his staff one of the available apartments that were located under his residence to live in; with what happened on that night, which had happened nearly twenty-two hundred years ago, he had stopped allowing this privilege to occur.

"A big, fuckin' mess. That's what I call that night." he thought after reaching the room's center.

He remembered the events of that night very well; they had all been sleeping, dreaming good dreams, or just sleeping while being dream-less, when the door to his oldest grandson's fortress home was blasted open. They had still been groggy when the three intruders rushed up the stairs, going up to the fourth level, which was where his great-great granddaughter, and his then-youngest grandson, Tazir, had been. One of the three intruders, all of which, he had found out a little later on that night, after everything calmed down and everyone was tended of their injuries, were related to him, had knocked Tazir out cold; Angel had been grabbed, and then thrown towards the door of the chamber that she had been found in. The infants—Bile and Lhaklar—had been retrieved very quickly then they had all gone down to the servant's quarters, where a problem had been encountered.

The butlers and maids had all taken a stand against the three; a fight had erupted, which had killed ten and had caused thirty others to be injured. The woman that he had been sexually interested in had been retrieved from the chamber that she had been sleeping in then she, Angel, Bile, and Lhaklar had been hustled along. One of the three intruders—the given-description on her had been vague; she had been said to of had very black hair, with the bangs and ends being blonde in color—had teleported out of the house after being severely injured soon after the woman was retrieved from her appointed sleeping quarters; the remaining two intruders had hustled their abductees back upstairs, where more fighting had been encountered.

He had joined in on that round; the five inch long scar that went across his stomach was a nice souvenir of that night—a pink energy strand, which had been used more as a knife than a normal power-attack, had hit him there; he had seen more than enough stars after the gash was made. After he was felled, the two grabbed then ran out of the house with the woman, Angel, and her sons. The only way that they had been able to stop the two remaining intruders was to injure one critically; Tazir had done that one himself. From what he had been told, Tazir had charged out of his brother's place like a bat out of hell; he had swung his arms out then he had shot them forward—a strand of black-colored lightning had zoomed through air for a short second before striking the back of the one that had been holding Angel.

The intruder, who he had been told a little later on was his oldest great-granddaughter, who had been disowned for attempting to harm family members in an extreme fashion, had dropped to her knees right after being struck; she had slid a few feet before gaining to her feet again. Before she could head back to retrieve Angel and her babies—all who had been dropped by her right after she had been struck by Tazir's initial attack—, she had been struck by a combination attack—black lightning and acid, was what he had been told. That attack had struck her shoulder with such force that it had made her fly ten feet back; no one was really sure as to what happened next. His oldest grandson claimed that his daughter, and the woman that he had been sexually interested in, had been teleported away by her daughter while others had said that she had been the one to save her own skin by teleporting away herself. All he knew was that the woman—who had had deep purple hair, with gray and white mixed in, and white eyes, that had small, black pupils in their centers—had teleported away, leaving the other intruder, another woman, behind to face everyone. Tazir had sent her packing with a double strand of white fire, two Acidic rings, and an energy beam of green, all of which had made a two inch wide hole appear in her shoulder. After she teleported away, Angel had been collected; she had been taken inside and then locked up. With that done, everyone who had been injured had been tended; the dead had been been counted at around that same time. While no Goblins had been killed, one had been very badly injured—Zshon Zultoa had taken a nasty blow to his arm after rushing forward to claim Angel and her sons from the women. Mr. Zultoa had nearly had his arm severed from his body; the energy blast that had been used on him had been a powerful one. He had also come close to losing both an ear and his nether region as well—from what he had been told, the leader of the women had had a good kick to her; she had just reeled back, and then swung forward with all of her might. The force of the woman's kick had sent the Goblin towards the ceiling.

If the three women were still alive, they had some pretty bad scars on their bodies to remind them of what went down on that night.

"It was a fight fit for a battlefield, yet it happened in one's house. I'm surprised that only ten were killed on that night; such small quarters for a battle to happen in... the ones who lived through it were damn lucky to of come out of it." he thought as he sat beside daughter-in-law.

After taking a seat beside Cyla, he reached forward then took the folder from her; it was placed on the coffee table quickly then one of her hands was taken into his. It was true—he had been especially close to Angel and, yes, he had been very hurt by her up and leaving like she had. On average, he had written around three letters a week to her; three to four phone conversations would be held between them a month and they had seen a lot of one another too. Even though she had known how he was with his sexual habits—his high libido—she hadn't spoken bad of him or had kept him at a far distance from her; she had spoken to him about it from time to time, and had "cautioned" him to be careful with who he brought home for an off-fling, but she hadn't said anything negative about his antics with the women that walked the planets of the realm that he and she lived in.

He had fibbed in the program, yes; he had said that he had been at the hospital when Lazeer was born—he felt right bad for saying that. He wasn't a liar and yet, on a program that had been seen by most everyone in the Universe, he had lied about something that was very important to both him and everyone else in the family. He had been a very active individual in the search for her; after she disappeared with her sons, he had gotten down to business in trying to find her and in trying to return her to the folk that loved her most. Instead of going off on his own, he had teamed up with most of his grandchildren—the idea, at the time, was that more eyes in one search party could aid in finding more clues or on, possibly, finding Angel. Yes, he still hurt from having to give up on the search; if not for his common sense, he would of searched forever for her and the boys. Three hundred years and not a trace; if she wanted to be found she would of been sighted by now. You've spent three hundred years away from your family. With that in mind, he had dropped out of the search; the grandchildren that he had teamed up with had also pulled out of the search—and for the same reason, he did believe. Everyone, except for his two grandsons and their wives, and Qeeta and the Ubalki's, had gone back to their lives; Kuruk and Irka had put seven hundred years of their lives on hold to find Angel and her sons before also coming to their senses. The only remaining ones to do the searching after Kuruk and Irka went home were Tazir, Qeeta, and the Ubalki's; even though Qeeta had looked willing to drop from the search, she hadn't done so... she had remained on her brother's side. She had remained hopeful that something would be found of the five who were missing.

Did he feel bad for abandoning the search? Yes, he didn't go through a day without feeling angry at himself for abandoning Angel and her sons. For giving up hope. Did he feel for Tazir? Yes, he knew that Tazir was hurting inside, and was clinging to a hope that Angel and her sons, whether all of them or just three, would be found alive. He knew that Tazir loved Angel; he probably loved her more than anyone else in the family—he knew that that alone was what was spurring him to continue the attempts in trying to find her.

The hope and the love; while he still retained the latter, he had lost the former, and that just made him feel ashamed of himself. If his senses hadn't of switched on, telling him to give it up and go home, he'd still be searching for her.

Like everyone else, he was also missing a chunk of himself; upon her and her sons' disappearance, a piece of him had left him. It would always be missing, he both felt and knew; as long as she and her sons were missing, he would always be lacking a piece of himself.

"I've seen the images on tv and can say that it's just a setting gone wrong on the cameras." ShaamVile said. "A sort of unintended trickery has happened—the cameras have Tazir thinking that who he is seeing is Angel when the woman is not."

"What about the ring?" Cyla reached forward, took the folder from the table, then took the extremely blown-up still of the ring that the fiery red-haired woman had worn on her finger out.

"Blown up images are distorted images," ShaamVile then pointed at the blown up image of the ring. "When this was blown up, the circular gem became oval. The process of blowing it up also distorted its color," he pointed at the three rows that were to either side of the oval aquamarine gem. "See? All of these have been slightly pulled up and down and then to the sides. The color on this part of the ring was distorted as well—see the brown? Went from brown to a very deep orange."

"That's the shine from the gems—"

"No, Cyla. The blowing up of these stills distorted everything. Makes everything change." ShaamVile said.

"Not secur—"

"All cameras, Cyla." ShaamVile said.

At around the time that Duru was born, image distortion hadn't been able to be done; one had to be content with the far-off image that a camera took, and one had to be content with the poor quality of the image as well. Even though the grainy, black and white, and blotchy images produced by cameras were gone—replaced with better quality images, that were both crisp, clear, and that were in color instead of black and white—there were still a few issues with the current-day cameras that the developers hadn't been able to remove from the items that they were selling to the general public. He had come to learn them flaws over the years, and he was trying to explain them now to one who had obviously been tricked by them. He wasn't allowed to get but very far; his heart came close to dropping in his chest after his daughter-in-law took a photograph of the younger youth that had been seen on and off during the previous week from her folder. He took one look at the photograph then stood up; he went to the fireplace then simply laid his hand across its mantle.

Before disconnecting all of the tv's in his home, he had seen the footage of the woman and youth that had, initially, been claimed to be Angel and her thirdborn son, Hazaar; he had taken one look at the displayed image of the youngster before saying that it wasn't who they assumed he was—he had gotten plenty of photographs of Angel's sons in her letters and e knew from memory what Hazaar had looked like. The one that they had tried to "play off" as Hazaar wasn't him. Nothing matched up. The skin color, the shape of the eyes, the hair... it was all wrong. Tazir and the reporters had come to their good senses on that one, but they hadn't come to their senses on who the woman was—pretty much all of the known images of her were of the blown-up kind; he had been able to detect the "artist's" rendering of each image right after they were shown on the tube. The actual woman that was being incorrectly identified as his great-great granddaughter had light brown hair; by way of pausing one of his tv's, then taking an in-depth look at the displayed image that had been on the screen at the time, he had noticed that there was a line of light brown running along the edges of her hair—the people who altered photographs were hard at work in causing a lot of trouble for him and his, sadly.

He had spent two days at Duru's and Cyla's place earlier that previous week; he had seen enough from their tv's to know what was going on with Tazir's search. Two days of trying to force himself to get involved in the holiday had been for nothing; after succumbing to his stresses, and the pain that Tazir's new search was causing him to go through, he had packed up and then gone home. One day of feeling this new pain had been experienced before the decision to disconnect the tv's located in his bedroom chamber, in the living room, and in a few of the other rooms in the house was made. Even though Tazir's search was being written about in the papers, he had forced himself to not look at the articles; he had just skipped looking at the pages that the articles were on.

He knew nothing else of what had come up with Tazir's search and, up to now, he had no desire to know what was going on. It sadly looked like Cyla was about to give him some insight on what was going on with Tazir.

"It's not any of them, Cyla." he said at last. "Either someone's trying to play us as fools—trying to give us more headache, and heart-ache, while also trying to make a quick buck—or someone's made a mistake in the identification process and doesn't want to own up to it."

"The stills of the woman sure look like Angel," Cyla said. "The same with the stills of Lhaklar."

"Suppose you'll say the same of the stills of that one youth?" he asked while turning to look at her. "He's not Hazaar, Cyla. Nothing adds up on him. None of the ones who've been "identified" as our own are our own. They're just normal-day civilians who've been mis-identified—I'm betting that them poor people are very annoyed with having themselves being called who they're not... probably wanting this new search of Tazir's to fall through and fast so they can go back to their normal lives."

"Tazir went to Earth yesterday." Cyla, who was having a time in understanding what her father-in-law was saying, and in trying to keep her rekindled hopes intact, blurted.

"Yeah, what for?" this piece of information was new to him; Tazir hadn't set foot to that planet in a long time now.

"Efagti and Amadh Ubalki saw and then gave chase of the youth that's been seen on the security footages yesterday afternoon; they chased him to a back-alley, where a woman looked to be waiting for him." Cyla explained as best she could of what she had seen on the news last night and that early morning. "After the two left, Efagti collected the dirt that they had been standing on. They had it tested right away—the tests said that they came from Earth."

"Was there a reason for the two of them to give chase to that youth?"

"Amadh approached him, then asked him a question; he ran off with a magazine, which hadn't been paid for, after a slight verbal altercation occurred between the two of them."

"Sounds like Amadh met up with a thief." he said. "Angel wouldn't raise one of her children to be thieves—I both know and can be sure of that. The woman that the two saw... she was obviously waiting for the youth to come back with the goods. She was the mastermind while the youth was just the pawn. Sadly."

After saying this, he went towards the couch that his daughter-in-law was sitting on then sat down. What he had just said was true—he was rich in this confidence of his that Angel was a decent mother, who wouldn't have her children going out to steal things. This piece of spilled information made him feel even more assured over the woman-youth pair not being one of his family.

"Take it that Tazir went to Earth alone?" he asked.

"No, he sent a hundred of his ground troops to Earch first; they scouted an area called Expedition Island, which lies just outside of the shields." Cyla replied. "Tazir went to the planet after hearing that they had found something."

"What was that?"

"Two camps—both that looked previously used—and several carcasses that looked as if they had been hunted with tools."

"Is this Expedition Island a park? What is it?"

"It's a national landmark," Cyla replied. "It is a park."

"Is it open to the public?"

"Yes,"

"Whose to say that the two camps, and the located carcasses, don't belong to a group of normal humans who had made the decision to enjoy a bit of the outdoors?" ShaamVile said. "Humans hunt, the same as we do—but they take what they want then they leave the rest... they waste the rest of the animal that they take down, you know that."

"Tazir said on the news this morning that there were two prints near each of the carcasses—one of them looked female."

"A man and a woman went camping, did some hunting, then left. Simple as that." ShaamVile said.

It took twenty, long minutes of hashing, point making, and then comforting before his daughter-in-law got what he was saying; he saw her, who looked to weigh twenty pounds heavier, but who hadn't changed a bit in appearance, out then went to the room that the items that he had inherited over the years were kept in. As he went on his way down the hallway, he couldn't help but be angry at Tazir—if not for his grandson's "rejuvenated" search, Cyla wouldn't of fallen from her good senses or had been in need of someone to bring her good senses back. Cyla had bawled her eyes out near the end of her stay; while he had tried his best to comfort her he had known that any form of comfort wouldn't give her any relief from the pain that she was feeling. Before leaving, he had asked her to spread the word on what he had told her to everyone; she had said that she would then she had gone on her way—she had walked the fifteen miles to his place. While initially wanting to give her a ride home, he had decided not to. The walk might help her some. It might help her in coming to terms with her grief and it might also cement all that he had told her as well. The folder, with all its fine content of newspaper articles and "photographs", had been left behind; before going to his Inheritance Room, he made a pit stop in his office, where it was filed in one of the available file cabinets.

He had been in his Inheritance Room before the bell went off, it sounded like the ones that he had left behind were still in the room and it also sounded like they were still chatting among themselves. Before entering the room, he knew that another conversation on Angel and her sons was about to happen—his uncle, his wife, and their adult son were just talking away, in the lowest of voices and in a semi-calm sort of way, about the ones in their family that were missing. When he entered the room, the conversation that they were having continued—as expected, he was pulled right on in in becoming a participant in it.

"Hello Trob," he said after entering the room.

"Shaam," his uncle, TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, acknowledged him.

"Hello Shaam," his uncle's wife, Bahne Brotzol, said.

"Hello Bahne, everything alright with you two?" he asked. He was just being polite—even though they were talking about Angel and her sons, he still had to treat them politely. They were guests in his home, after all—he had to make them comfortable.

"Yes—hope you don't mind but we disconnected the tv in the room that you gave us." Bahne said.

"Just can't keep seeing and hearing it," TrobrencusVile said. "Just too much."

"Haven't had my tv turned on all week—don't want to see any of it." his uncle and aunt's adult son, TrivitVile Afck Surfeit, said.

"Don't mind at all—most of the house's main tv's are disconnected; been thinking about doing the same with every tv in the place." he replied. "As it is, my phones are set to busy—so I don't get any calls on it—and I'm refusing further guests. I want no involvement."

TrobrencusVile Surfeit looked at his nephew, who, besides his family, and Duru, was the only other member of his family to survive Shlock's Plague, which had had a good time in nearly destroying over a million years of fine breeding, training, and galactic terrorizing. His nephew was a gentle man; he was as easy-going and level-headed as could be—when the man was out, conquering a galaxy, he managed to turn all of this around... when he was busy conquering a galaxy, he made a normal conquest look almost like it was a piece of cake.

His conquest of the Bunswana Galaxy was a perfect example of this side of him—he had been a quiet man all during the week prior to the conquest then, pow, he had turned his other side on. He had gone into his well tactical, well militarized, self; he had gotten mean, and had showed his fine powers and strengths off well, which had paid off better than well for him. The galaxy had fallen into his capable hands in a little under two months time; the fifty planet compromising galaxy had fallen to him with little to no opposition or trouble at all.

His nephew was a tall man, standing at six foot, six inches; his body was better than appropriately muscled for one of this height—while his lower half was more "slender" in appearance, his top half was teeming in naturally gotten muscle; his back and stomach were teeming in muscle mass while his chest, which was barrel-shaped, was just the epitome of muscle. His arms were extremely thick with muscle; with the way his muscle mass was distributed around his body, he really did look like an upside down spinning top. ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, or Shaam, as everyone in the family, and all of his nephew's friends, called him, had the typical body that was possessed by a Surfeit—it was bi-colored, with the left side of him being a carmine pink color and the right being maroon; the man's elongated ears were a burgundy color, they had black, Tiger-like stripes on them. The eyes that looked out from his nephew's face were a glowing white color; the pupils that were in their centers were small and red in color. He had long, maroon-colored fingernails on each finger of both of his big hands.

He had always valued and admired his nephew's dress sense; instead of going by the era in wearing a tuxedo, like most of the other men of fine breeding, or who were very well to-do money-wise, he had struck out to find his own sense of style in clothing. The dark red jacket, which had gold hems and pockets on it, and which ran all the way to the floor on the left side, but that's right side stopped at its wearer's waist, looked good on him. The red vest that was under the jacket was very shiny; it had equally shiny, gold buttons running down its front. The vest was worn over a normal, but nicely crisp and clean, white shirt; a pair of dark red pants, that had light gold buttons running down their outer legs, and white slacks covered his nephew's lower half well. The pair of brown suede boots that he had on his feet were nicely buffed up; he still thought that the tops of these boots being pulled down added a tinge more "flavor" to the man's dress sense. The gold chain, which dropped from the left pocket of his nephew's jacket, and which ran over to the right pocket of his vest, had a very expensive pocket watch on its end; on any given day, his nephew might take the pocket watch out a handful of times.

"A report came over the radio just fifty minutes ago—Vile gave Tazir a warning." Bahne said.

"What for?" ShaamVile asked.

"For his entering his planet without his permission."

Even though the sigh that came out of him was long, and drawn out, it wasn't one made in despair—it was a relief-based sigh; while he and his great-grandson didn't see eye to eye on most things, they did agree on what all this continued searching for Angel and her sons was doing. Both of them agreed that it shouldn't be continued, and that it was causing others in their family pain; Vile had even gone on record in saying that, if his daughter was alive and well, she would of made herself known a long time ago. Now that this threat of Vile's was made known to him, he was clinging to a hope that his great-grandson would do or say something that'd put Tazir's "rejuvenated" search to bed. His great-grandson owning the planet Earth to the side, Vile had a lot more say than they really did on this situation—he was, after all, Angel's second husband and he was, after all, Bile's actual father.

The planet Earth, which was where Angel, and her first son, had been born on, had quite a history to it now, which didn't just include natural disasters or normal-done wars; a laundry list of would-be conquerors had tried to come in and take it under their control over the last sixteen hundred years. The attempted usurptions had really kicked off at around the time that they had been looking for Angel and her sons; the Machine Empire had given it another go after its initial attempt in claiming the planet as one of its empires fell through then a half-assed attempt had been made by a space pirate named Divatox—he still thought that she, who was still so very young, should of stayed at her old job in pilferaging ships of their cargo instead of conquering. Her attempts in seizing control of the planet hadn't been good... they had, in more ways than one, been quite embarrassing. A very finely done attempt in trying to seize control of the planet had happened after a duo named Astromeda and Dark Spectre set their sights on it—not only had around a quarter of the Universe's population been wiped out by the resulting wave that occurred near the end of that attempted usurption but Vile had also come within a mere fraction of an inch of losing the planet. A woman by the name of Trakeena had given it a go in trying to take the planet from Vile's control about fifty or so years after them two's attempt fell through; quite surprisingly, Miss. Trakeena, who was no longer around to reek havoc in the Universe, had had someone in the family working with her during her attempted conquest. A trove of conquerors by the name of Scorpius, Queen Bansheera, Ransik, Master Org—a man who had been trying to tarnish his great-grandson's name by putting "Master" in front of his name—Lothor, Mesogog, the Troobians—a war-like alien species, who had been in the service of Emperor Gruum, who had been looking to show to the Universe that his great-grandson was going down due to his age and family ties—Octomus—another creature who had tried to show the Universe that his great-grandson was growing weak, but who, like all of the others, had failed—had tried and failed in trying to seize control of the planet.

Quite surprisingly, Vile hadn't seen each of these potential usurpers off himself; a team of teenagers, who had all been wearing spandex, and colorful, motorcycle-like helmets, had seen them off. A small fraction of the ones who had had their attempts in planetary conquests thwarted had a to-do with his great-grandson, who had sent them packing and fast soon after showing up. For the last four hundred years, no one had really given it a thought about trying to take possession of the planet; he was personally surprised that no one had tried to encroach on Tazir's conquered realms—due to Tazir's interests being absorbed in the search for Angel and her sons, all of his galaxies were unprotected against invading forces.

He guessed that it was Tazir's reputation that kept the potential usurpers from making an attempt on his unguarded territories—he was a fierce warrior... one who led his armies into battle shirt-less, and who was known to fight like a savage beast.

"He's also stopping any and all reporters from going to the planet and from reporting anything that Tazir's finding while being on the planet." Bahne said.

"Not a single reporter from our birth-galaxy is allowed to write or put out any stories on what's going on with Tazir's search as well." TrivitVile said.

"He should just plain order Tazir to stop—Angel is his as well. He, as both her husband and father, has full rights in saying what happens with her and on who can and cannot run stories on her." TrobrencusVile said.

"On Angel and Bile both." Bahne said in mild correction.

ShaamVile nodded in full agreement with the three; after nodding his head, he turned his gaze towards the only woman that was in the room. His aunt, Bahne Surfeit, was a very beautiful woman; she had creamy-colored hair, which flowed down to the middle of her back, darkly tanned skin, and a heart-shaped face that had two, very bright, solid blue eyes in it—along with the eyes, her face also supported a small, but trim, nose; a pair of large, full lips; and a trim chin in it. For one who had birthed ten children, she had a very good form to her—her figure was hourglass-like in appearance; her breasts were large while her hips were round, but petite, in appearance. She stood about five foot, five inches tall.

Despite her feminine appearance, his aunt was right tough; she had gone through a lot in her long life. Ten children, with four of them ten being twins; being moved to an underground bunker right when her third pregnancy was starting to show, and then giving birth to her first set of twins; weathering through Shlock's Plague while being in that underground bunker; watching her husband leave their underground "sanctuary" to bury the one twin that hadn't survived the birth; seeing her husband get hurt time and again during his conquests... she was just a tough old bird. He couldn't be prouder to have such a woman as her being his aunt.

Though being a trifle bit shy from time to time, his uncle's and aunt's oldest son was also very well known for voicing his opinions on things, and for his "antics" with the ladies. TrivitVile Afck Surfeit, or Trivit, as his friends and everyone in the family called him, had been born during the early part of Shlock's Plague; his twin brother, Tolibyte, had been born before him—the birth of non-breathing and non-living Tolibyte had put a merry scare in on Bahne and Trobrencus... Bahne had come close to wanting to be knocked out so she wouldn't see the outcome of the second twin's birth after he was born. Trivit was a perfect combination of both of his parents; his face was heart-shaped, like Bahne's, but it had a lot of his father's features in it. The puke-yellow trails, or markings, that were under his eyes; the red, flake-like patches of skin that were on both of his cheeks, on his neck, and on both of his arms; and his eyes had all come from his father. His creamy-colored hair had come from his mother—he preferred to wear it long; despite its length, it was very well clean and maintained. Like most of the known Surfeit's, Trivit was bi-colored—the left side of his face and body was red, while the other side of his face and body was purple. He had a lean, but strong as steel, body type; he stood six foot, two inches tall. Unlike his father, who was a very well-known conqueror, Trivit had no reputation or fame to him; instead of conquering planets, he worked in a museum. Despite his peasant job, he was a right intelligent young man.

"Angel's lid was more than flipped all topsy-turvy when she saw you," he thought after looking at his uncle. "Instead of accepting you, and welcoming you into the family warmly, she was scared out of her wits end of you."

Trobrencus, who had been given the name of TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit at birth, but who went by plain Trobrencus, or Trob, by everyone who knew him, had merely followed him and Duru into the nursery that was in Kuruk's fortress home; Angel, who had been in the room at the time, had had a moment of panic, which had paralyzed her in place—she had been so terrified of his uncle that she hadn't been able to move, much less say hello. Even though she had gotten use to him, she and he hadn't gotten but so close to one another—a few letters a year would be received on both ends, maybe a phone call or two would be sent, and they might of seen one another on a two to three time basis per year. He had been quite surprised that his uncle had joined in on the search to find her after she and the boys disappeared; Uncle Trob had put in a gallant search... he'd be on one planet no more than an hour before hopping over to another, and his given bulletins and flier hand-outs had been very to the point and serious.

His uncle had taken more after his mother than his father; instead of looking like a typical Surfeit, he looked almost spot-on for one of the Zomo race, which was what his mother, Birava Yamubabba, had been. Even though he had the bi-colored body of a Surfeit—with the left side being a light blue color while the right was a puss-like creamy color—he looked very Zomo-like in appearance; there were red, blood-like, trail-like markings under his eyes and there were several red, droop-like, flaky patches of flesh on his cheeks and forehead. The man's lower lip drooped; thanks to its shredded appearance, it almost looked like he had been ravaged by a rapid dog. His uncle had scruffy-like, dark purple hair; even though it was cut all nice and trim on the front and sides, there was a long, braided strand in the back, which fell past his collar bone. His uncle had no visible ears on his head; they were more located inside of his head than outside of it. His uncle's long face had a set of eyes in it that were very uniquely colored; the irises were red while the sclera and pupils were white. The nose that was in the center of the man's face was trim and pointy; it had triangular-shaped nostrils in it. The fingernails that sprouted out from the ends of each of the man's fingers were a dark, cream-color; not only were they medium-length, but they had also been filed enough so that their ends were finely sharp. Uncle Trob, while not as big as he was, was still a big man in his own right; he stood a good, six foot, four inches tall.

"Anyone ever think of doing an intervention?" Bahne asked. "Of just going and then having a good, heart-to-heart talk with Tazir? Of having him talk all of his emotions out... of letting him get all of what he's going through out of his system?"

"We've done that," ShaamVile said. "We've talked and talked and talked to him, he just won't listen."

"But did you—"

"We did, didn't work. We thought that the program would be a help in putting this nonsensical searching to bed but, as you can see, it hasn't." ShaamVile replied a bit too quickly. After interrupting his aunt, he sighed then said, "That and people wanting to make trouble. People who are distorting camera images for the hell or it, or that are unknowingly showing distorted images without realizing that the original images have been altered—"

"People who are trying to make good fortune out of our misfortune." TrivitVile said. "Who are trying to make a lot of dough while playing off our feelings."

"Yes—and which is, sadly, getting what they want it to." ShaamVile said. "Money, fame, attention, and interest in something that should of been forgotten a long time ago."

A quiet settled over the room; he took advantage of it by looking at the items that were on display. A lot of the items that he had had been willed over to him after his father and stepmother died; despite what Vile's little "autobiography" said, the Surfeit family had started out very much like that of other families—their ancestors had been peasant folk, who had made out a liking by working normal, peasant jobs and by living very normal lives that, nine times out of ten, included the entertainments that other peasant folk indulged in. It had taken many generations before the family started climbing up the society ladder; even though the family had nearly been wiped out by Shlock's Plague, he, his son, and Uncle Trob had managed to save it.

His great-grandfather, WexVile Surfeit, had once kept his sword, along with all of the items that he had willed over, in a thick glass case while his youngest, and only successful, son had kept his sword, and all of his inheritance items, in a case that had a single pane of glass to it. From what he had been told, his grandfather, IackVile Surfeit, had been an especially temperamental man; though smart in his own right, and very powerful, his temper had been the thing that had kept most people at bay. His father, RaalVile Surfeit, had used a case that had a triple pane of glass to it to display the items that he had been willed over—he had never used a case to hang his sword up in; he had preferred to keep it hanging from a normal sword rack instead.

He had been smart in designing a place to display all of the items that he had gotten after his father and stepmother died; soon after returning from Limbo, he had hired a contractor to build a room that would suit each of his willed over swords, and all of the other items that his kin had once owned and used. Each of the display cases were open to the elements—his builder had thought him crazy over this idea until he had shown him the bill from one of the more renown security firms. He had had a security beam installed in each case; five invisible strands went across each of the display cases. This system would burn the fingers, and, if the home intruder was brave enough to stick his, or her, whole hand into the case, hand off if they so much as tried to take any of his displayed inheritance items. All of his inherited swords were placed in order of who had owned them; he made damn sure to clean them once every two weeks.

The sword to his immediate left had once belonged to his great-great grandfather, LynkVile Surfeit; it had a gold and silver grip and a golden blade that was long and curvy. The sword's tip was silver, and quite sharp. The sword's sheath, which had been made out of pure gold, and which had rubies running down its center on both sides, was in the same case; along with the sword and its sheath, he also had the man's goblet, his fighting helmet, and his spear. The plaque that was in front of the sword's open-glass case said who the sword belonged to and what accomplishments had been made during the sword wielder's lifetime.

The sword that was beside that one had once belonged to LynkVile's oldest son, Wex; his sword was right unique... it had been made out of titanium steel, there was a blue-curved design in its middle. A twin-coiling snake design was on the grip. The sheath, which was also in the sword's case, was mostly titanium steel; there was an explosion design of blue on the sheath's top, the design tapered in a curve-like fashion all the way down the sheath's length. Along with the man's sword and sheath, he also had two of the robes that he had once worn in his collection—these were located in another of the room's display cases.

"Never could come into this room and not stare at this sword." he thought as he looked at the sword that had once been owned and used by his grandfather, IackVile Uovo Surfeit.

His grandfather had done some wondrous things with his sword and for it to be in his collection was outstanding. The sword that he was now looking at had been made almost entirely out of bronze; the grip had been made out of bronze and silver—it had been designed to look like a dragon, with its mouth open. It almost looked like the sword's bronze blade was being thrown up by the dragon designed grip. Even though the blade was bronze, it had flecks of silver and gold on it—which caused the blade to be quite bright. The sword's sheath, which was in the same open-glass case, was also bronze; the dragon skull, that was at the sheath's top, and the dragon wings, that were at the sheath's bottom, had been done in thick gold.

His father's sword was right beside that one; he had grown up knowing this sword... he had held it as a boy and he had watched as his father had washed, polished, and then propped it up on his sword rack. The sword was made of steel; it had three, iron spirals to it, all of which coiled around a band of blue flame, which was in the sword's middle. The grip and handle, even to that day, was very strong; a bright strand of blue diamonds ran along the grips. His father had never used a sheath. His sword had always flopped naked at his side, hanging off one of his many worn belts.

He had once tried making off with this sword when he had been a small toddler—no more than two hundred and ninety-two years of age. Instead of grabbing and then running off with the sword, and having his Papa follow after him—he had been fond of getting the man to chase him around the house at that age and that was what he had been trying to do on this one particular day—he had gotten a surprise. His father, RaalVile Surfeit, had been a good father; he had been stern and strict at times, yes, but, most of the time, he had been a good, kind-hearted, nurturing man who threw in a few good jokes, or goofs, from time to time. Instead of turning around, and then getting on him for trying to make-off with his sword, Papa had turned and then dropped to one of his knees; a gust of blue flames had come from the sword after his small hand had landed on it... instead of taking off with the sword, he had yelled and then jumped back. His father, who had had his back to him at the time, had turned around quickly; he had gone to work in looking him over for injuries right after the gust of flames shot out from his sword. Instead of finding him injured, he had found him being perfectly fine—he had also found, by way of looking at his hand, which had had a ring of blue flames around it, that his sword had jump-started his Elemental powers. Even though that power had been sparked on that day, his papa hadn't pushed the envelope on training him on how to use it; his papa had let him grow and mature a bit more before starting his training.

Uncle Trobrencus was standing before this one sword now; the man plain refused to go down the aisle, towards the other swords that were also on display—his reason in doing this was really quite obvious to both him, Bahne, and Trivit: the two swords that Uncle Trob's older brother, Rosol, had once used were right beside that one. Uncle Trob had never—not once—gone farther down the aisle; he was still having a time in coping with the loss of his older brother, who, along with a mass majority of his family, had been claimed by Shlock's Plague. The symptoms of his uncle's grief were noticeable even now—the sword that he was standing before had once belonged to his younger brother, Raal; though he hadn't been as close to him as he was to Rosol, he had been close to this brother of his and it was quite evident that he missed him.

"Angel's seen all of these." he thought as he contemplated on going down the aisle to see if his uncle was okay or not. "She's seen all of these swords, along with the other items—the goblets and gauntlets, the bow and arrow cases, with their few arrows, and the spears, laces, and malets, and so on—in my collection."

Sometime after getting situated at Tazir's place, and then getting fully acquainted with most everyone in the family, Angel had come to his place to both look at his collection and to ask him something. She had asked if he'd want to have her swords one day—she had had four swords in her possession back then... a black, a clear, a bronze, and a pearl-white, all of which could be joined together to make a very powerful weapon that she had called the Gladius Magnus, or the Great Sword. Even though he had been humbled by her question he had said for her to keep the four swords that she had in her possession. _They might come in handy one day,_ he remembered telling her; _you're a good swordswoman... if your sons gain your prowess in using a sword then, maybe, they'd appreciate getting and then having the option of using them_.

As he looked at the swords he was suddenly struck with the realization that he couldn't remember what powers Angel's sons had started exhibiting at the time of their disappearance; Angel was an excellent wielder of not only Energy but also Elemental powers and Tazir was an excellent wielder of not only Acidic but also Energy and Elemental powers—and, he couldn't forget, the Telepathic, Telekinetic, and Time Warp abilities. Hadn't one of her sons exhibited Elemental powers before? How about Energy powers, or Acidic? Hadn't Bile once burned a tree on his adoptive father's property by shooting a gust of flaming air at it? Hadn't Lhaklar once burned his fingers after throwing glob after glob after glob of blue acid at the wall of his toddler-chamber?

He couldn't remember what powers the two boys had exhibited, or if they had exhibited any powers at the time of their disappearance; this caused enough sadness in him to make him turn around and then leave the room.


	11. Chapter 11

"Alright everyone—to the living room... it's time for tv."

The usual routine followed after his wife gave the order for all who were in the apartment to vacate the rooms that they were in and then go to where the tv was. Arenzoar and Dlahsleon pushed and shoved one another as they raced from the kitchen and then down the hallway; once they were in the living room, they charged to where the couch was—the piece of furniture, which had seen much better days, groaned after the two of them plopped down on it as fast, and as heavily, as they could. Beaufi showed a little more dignity by leaving her bedroom slowly and quietly; after entering the living room, and then reaching the couch, she tried her best to sit down—her innocently done act of "squeezing" in-between her two, couch-hogging brothers caused both Arenzoar and Dlahsleon to fight one another. As expected, Beaufi was dragged into their fight right after she got herself "comfortable" in the room.

The twins, Gizzippli and Galiza, did their usual in imitating their older brothers' mad dash into the room; after charging into the living room, they ran to their older siblings then tried their best to climb onto their laps—since Arenzoar, Dlahsleon, and Beaufi were too busy in fighting one another, they neither helped the two onto their laps or paid them any mind. Since Gizzippli and Galiza were just three hundred and eighty years of age, they didn't know better on not becoming involved in the fussing and fighting that their older siblings were doing—the twins saw the bickering of their siblings, and the frequent hustle and bustle routine of going to the living room for Family Evening Tv-time, as a sort of "game" and, like any other toddler, they just had to be involved in making as much noise as the others in the room were making.

He and his wife entered the room a minute later; they simply stood, then stared at all of the ruckus that was going on in the room before making the decision to go forward—the command for everyone to pipe down was given soon after they did so. As usual, the command was taken to heart for only a few minutes before someone started the next round of fussing and fighting.

"Move over!" his middle-born son, Dlahsleon, said to his oldest daughter, Beaufi.

"I can't! You move over!" Beaufi said back. The two of them glared at one another before turning to look at the room's tv; his daughter had no more turned to face the tv before turning and then snapping at the one who was to her left. "Quit elbowing my ribs!"

"Move over and you won't have to worry about my elbow going into them." his oldest son, Arenzoar, said in return.

He stuck his lower lip out after the children went at it again; part two of the nightly usual occurred right after that exchange of words was done. Dlahsleon kept telling his sister to move over; she'd come back by telling him that he was the one who needed to move over. Beaufi would tell Arenzoar to quit elbowing her ribs, or to quit pushing her against Dlahsleon; Arenzoar would come back by saying that she needed to either quiet up or move over so he wouldn't be "tempted" to use his elbow on her. Even though the tv wasn't on, the children all started snapping at Arenzoar, who was the "self-appointed" popcorn maker, and who always had the family-sized bowl of popcorn on him, to stop hogging the 'corn. The twins returned to making as much nose as they could. He and his wife were already tired of all the noise by the time they reached the two chairs that sat opposite one another.

"Alright Mudolavich's!" he said—with all the noise that was going on, he had to be loud when he spoke. As was natural for one who went through this nonsense on a day-in to day-out basis, his instructions were given out automatically. "Dlahsleon," he said after noticing that this son of his was taking up more than enough room on the couch. "move over so your sister can have some of the couch to sit on." he then turned his attention towards the two, older children, who were "doing war" by knocking their elbows into one another. "Arenzoar, Beaufi, either quit elbowing one another or leave the room." when he turned to give the twins their frequent, tv-time instruction, he both calmed down and softened up. "Gizzippli, Galiza, hush now."

His "charges" were quiet as they did as he had told them to do; when they looked at him, he saw not only the ghosts of the evening's fussing and fighting on their faces but also the looks of one who wanted to know if they had done what they had been told to do correctly. He nodded his head at the now-obedient, and silent, children then went to his chair; his wife made her rounds in checking on the kids before taking to the chair that was opposite the one that he was getting ready to sit in.

"If anyone's interested, a young, fresh face will be making an appearance on Channel 22 this evening."

That was what his employer's text message had said; nothing else had needed to be said for either he, or any of his co-workers, to know that something was going on with the one that they called Miss. Eshal—still, a quick call, placed by both him and Eldass, had gotten the scoop on what was going on.

Miss. Eshal, his employer's only daughter, who was also the only child that he knew the whereabouts of, had about had a hissy fit yesterday after learning what was going on between her father, his family, and the man who called himself Master Vile. His employer, who he and his co-workers respectively called Master Tazir, had spent a trouble-free six hours on Earth a day and a half ago; along with getting some good, alien-fresh air in his lungs he had also looked into what his troops had found—the two camps, the carcasses that had been near them, and the prints that had been near the carcasses had been looked at, then the ones who were behind the discoveries had been taken to the side and then asked a few questions, then a simple collection session had been done. Master Tazir had just taken the plaster casts of the prints up from the ground when his cellular went off; the man's nephew, the so-called owner of the planet, had simply called to give him a warning, which had mostly revolved around his not setting foot on the planet that he claimed as his without getting his express permission first.

A thirty minute period of returned trouble-free searching had happened before another call, which had come from the same man, came through; up to hearing the reason behind his uncle's presence being on the planet, the man had been fine with him being where he was. A Master Vile-style explosion had happened after he had learned what his uncle was up to; after doing a lot of un-needed yelling, Master Vile had barred him from coming within a two thousand mile radius of Earth's orbit.

Even though Master Tazir had taken heed of his nephew's barring—he hadn't touched foot to the planet for nearly two days now—he wasn't keeping his interests in the planet at bay. Two of the generals in his military had been given orders to go to the planet about two hours after the barring occurred; they had been given orders to conduct a simple, ground-based survey and an interior shield search of the areas located near to where the camps and carcasses had been found. A lot of bulletin and flier distribution had happened and around two hundred humans had been plucked from the streets to be questioned about who all had used the camps that had been found on the island.

His employer's nephew had near hit the roof after hearing about this new development happening on his planet; Master Tazir, along with anyone that was associated with him, was now banned from coming anywhere near the galaxy that Earth was in. A simple-made, and slightly deceiving, device had been installed in several of the locations that the two generals had searched just before the banning was done; thanks to efforts of them two generals, and their installed devices, the leads on the Earth-conducted search for Mistress Angel and her sons were coming in like clockwork.

Some fifty humans had come forward to say that they had seen a woman of his employer's "description" walking about the planet's various deserts and forests and along some of the lakes, rivers, and oceans; them same folk had said that this woman had been in the company of a mint-green skinned alien, or of someone that they hadn't been able to get a good look at, during each of them sightings. This woman had also been said to of been seen with an immature dog on at least five occasions—the description of this immature dog was baffling to both him and his employer; it was said to have shaggy fur, that was a lightish, dusty green color, and it was also said to be rather gangly, but athletic, in appearance.

"While the previous week wasn't that terribly bad for her, the current one has proven to be a bit more daunting—along with seeing me go down in spirits a few times, then seeing me return to my former luster after something's discovered in the investigation, and hearing that I've been barred, and then banned, from the planet that her mother, and brothers, may be one, she's also having to deal with knowing that my family status has been threatened."

Although his employer was vague on the subject, he had been able to detect what he had been trying to hide—Miss. Eshal had gone through a lot in the previous week... that year's Family Week had been a bit of a mental, and emotional, roller coaster for her. Along with seeing her father running around, looking into this promising lead, and then the one that popped up a few hours to a few days after that one came in, she had also had to contend with both knowing and hearing about how certain members of her family were calling to give her father grief.

A sort of ricocheting effect had happened with Master Tazir; his spirits had been brought down by his family's negativity more than twice in the previous week only to be returned to their former levels after word was received about something being discovered in his search. The man's spirits had been at an all-time high on the day that he had been banned from touching foot to the soil that was found on Earth—it was really no surprise on his part that the man's family had come galloping in to knock his spirits down to next to nothing on that day; about an hour to two hours after being banned from entering the galaxy that the planet Earth was in, Master Tazir had heard that the "aid" and "support" that he only just gotten from his older brother, sister-in-law, father, and the woman that his father had gone and married was being taken back. Along with hearing that their recently-given "aid" and "support" was being taken back, he had also heard that he was to be disowned if he continued searching for his wife and sons.

"Let him be disowned," he had thought after hearing of his employer's familial ties being threatened. "He doesn't need any of them—he's doing fine on his own; not like any of them were fully interested in him or his feelings, or of finding Mistress Angel and her sons, anyways."

He and his wife both agreed that his employer's search was being conducted in the right light and that everything that was being discovered in the search was genuine—why his employer's family wasn't seeing it that way was beyond the both of them but, yeah, they were and, what's worse, it had finally gotten to Miss. Eshal. Upon discovering that her father had been threatened of his family status, and that he had been barred, and then banned, from the planet Earth, Miss. Eshal had gotten mad. Instead of standing back, and letting the adults handle things, she had spoken her mind on what was going on; after doing this, she had latched onto the idea of being allowed to be on a television program—the likes, of which, she hadn't, really, picked out just yet; it had taken the combined efforts of his employer, and his mother, to see what program the girl would be on.

Miss. Eshal was showing a lot of strength for one her age; even though he wasn't related to her, he couldn't help but be proud of her—if not for the rich respect that both she and her father gave to him, his family, and to his co-workers and their families, he wouldn't be this prideful of her. He had seen the girl grow into the confident, strong thing that she currently was and he had also seen two of her four brothers grow into what they had been before they, and their mother, disappeared; they had all been good kids—despite the normal moments, where they had done troubling, or indecent, or near-indecent things, they had been good kids. Lhaklar, when he had gotten to walking around real good, had almost always been at his elbow; Bile had been Kalach's and Losal's constant buddy. Even though he and his co-workers had kept up with their job duties—of cleaning the house, and of making sure that everything in the house was in good shape—they had also kept up with the kids. A good example of this occurred about a hundred and ten years before the five members of his employer's family disappeared: one day, after noticing that Bile and Lhaklar were doing nothing but sitting around, being bored out of their wits ends, he had made the decision to take them outside for a game of fetch. Bile had had a good, strong arm on him while Lhaklar hadn't been able to catch at first; it had taken the boy four or five tries before finally being able to catch and then throw the ball back to him.

His and his co-workers's kids had all had their moments with Bile, Lhaklar, and Eshal; the girl Goblin children—who, in his species' culture, during their childhoods, were called Goblies; when they reached their teenage years, this term changed to Goblinette—had played and interacted with Eshal while the boy Goblin children—who were simply called Goblins in their culture—had played and interacted with Bile and Lhaklar. His two, older sons had been caught wrestling with Bile several times; Lhaklar had been caught making mud-pies with either Losal's son or with one of Eldass's sons on a few occasions as well. Even though Hazaar had been too young to join in on the play antics of the older children, he had been socialized with a few of the infant children that had been brought up from the servants quarters from time to time; due to Lazeer being too weak to partake in the socializing game, he hadn't been allowed to be around any of the staffs' offspring.

His employer's father—a man who he really thought shouldn't be allowed to create, or be allowed to raise, offspring—had been particularly cruel with his son during his childhood; Master Tazir hadn't been allowed to be a kid at all, and that went double with his not being allowed to enjoy his teenage years as well. Master Tazir had been quite encouraging to his sons on their enjoying the "fruit" of their childhood years. _Go on, be boys. Play in the mud; get dirty. Scrape a knee; get into trouble_ , he recalled his employer saying on more than one occasion—Bile might of taken this encouragement a bit too far; that boy had been keen on coming inside with either his elbows or his knees scraped, or with a bruise or two being present on his body, or with his clothes being all dirty, or muddy, or torn to bits. Bile had also been prone to getting into a bit too much trouble from time to time as well. Lhaklar had been more of a clean freak; while liking to play with mud, or dirt, he had also liked to be clean while doing so.

"Eclaire just about screamed herself raw one day after Young Bile walked into the hallway that she had just gotten through cleaning." he recalled as he sat in his old, comfy, brown leather chair. "Young Master Bile's shoes, socks, and the lower portion of his pants were a mud-logged mess—instead of staying outside for a few minutes to clean himself up, or to remove the items that were dirty, or overly muddy, he just entered the house as-was."

Master Tazir had been a much more patient, and lenient, parent to his offspring than his own father had been to him; even though he had given out the needed discipline from time to time, he hadn't gone as far as to degrade or physically harm his children while doing so. The man hadn't used any sort of weaponry—a belt; a stick; a whip, etc.—or his fists to discipline his kids with; while stern during his disciplining, he hadn't been but so rough when it came to their needing to be disciplined—he was personally glad for this; he wouldn't want to be working for one who abused their children, or who tried to keep their children from doing the things that a child was suppose to do during their growing up years. It had just been the normal type of discipline that his employer's children had gotten—a spank here, a spank there; a grounding of some sort; an appropriate lot of chores being given out; no dessert after supper, etc.

The act of over-doing it in the disciplining department had been done by Bile's actual father; he remembered a time, when the man had come over for his twice weekly visit to see his son, when he had been especially rough with the boy. Young Bile, who had been no more than four hundred and ten years of age, had been playing near the edge of a mud-pond on this visit; Master Vile, after seeing where his son was, and what he was playing with, had demanded for him to get up and then come to him. Bile, who, even at that age, hadn't really had any sort of relationship with the man, had come back with a _no_ very quickly; the man, in response to both seeing and hearing his son not doing as he had told him to do, had rushed forward—a rather hysterical Bile had rushed into the house about a minute and a half to two minutes later. Not only had Master Vile grabbed his son up by his arm but he had also beat him half a dozen times with a stick; Mistress Angel had just about had a cow after noticing that her young son's bottom end had turned a purple color during the night hours.

"Master Vile did that a lot with Young Bile," he thought as he took the remote up from the nearby side table. He sat back in his chair a second later, after turning the tv on then placing the remote back on its stationed table. "The man's "disciplinary" skills started showing almost immediately after the boy started moving around real good; if not for Master Tazir's, and his wife's, threat of not letting him come over to visit and spent time with him he would of gotten worse with him."

Like her husband, Mistress Angel had been an excellent parent; instead of lazing around, reading a book, or doing needlework, or concerning herself with what all needed to be done in the kitchen, and instead of taking advantage of her husband's wealth and power, she had been involved in the raising of her young. She had done more than tend her sons and Eshal; she had socialized them well, had taught them how to use a sword by first showing them the steps by using a stick, and she had also been involved in their home-based schooling. Lhaklar, a book worm, had taken on the role of being a sort of geek during his tutoring hours; he had gotten A's on all of his work while Bile, who had been more focused on his physical strengths than his mental ones, had gotten mostly B's and C's on his. His employer's wife, one day, after the two-hour tutoring session was done, had once confided in him by saying _that boy will be a big man one day, but I fear that he might slip in brain power_ ; if Bile hadn't of kicked the phase that he had been going through, the one that had caused him to think that his studies weren't as important as they really were, that would of happened.

Not a day went by without his wishing that the two, younger children had been in the developmental stage where they were both moving around more freely and speaking in either coherent sentences or using coherent words at the time of their disappearance—he bet that that would of been fun... having five children running around in his employer's mansion, along with hearing the many things that came out of their mouths, and seeing their everyday antics. He could imagine it now; the floors, and walls, of his employer's home would be bouncing along as the biologically related boys ran around with their half-brother, getting into trouble and just plain causing everyone in the house to either roll their eyes, laugh, or look at the ceiling. Oh boy, the mansion would of been full of yelling had that of happened. Even though they had different fathers, and different personalities, Bile and Lhaklar had been especially close to one another; when they were together, they had been as loud as could be. Lhaklar, who had been the more calmer of the two boys, had only slipped into being the quiet boy when his brother wasn't around him; Bile, even while being in the house, and even when his brother wasn't in his immediate proximity, had always been loud.

He remembered a time when a rather stressed out Mistress Angel had placed a call to her father; along with doing the usual in asking him how he was, and in telling him how she was fairing, she had also asked him the question on how both her older, half-brother—Rito—and himself had acted when they had been Bile's age. Instead of getting some normal-made advice, or a shoulder to lean on, she had gotten the old usual insults and get-ons—putting it nicely, the man had responded by saying that neither he, Rito, or Triskull had acted in the way that his son did; he had also come back with saying that it was the spoiling of his son, and of the ill-one, as he had called Lhaklar back then, that was causing him to act in way that he was. The man had pinned a lot of blame on Mistress Angel for how their son "acted"; he was still surprised that the woman had wanted to place any calls to the man, or had wanted anything to do with him. The man hadn't treated her, or her sons, right; with the way he had been with her, he had surely not deserved her attempts in wanting to be in contact with him.

"In accord to his definition of the word, the Young Masters, and Miss. Eshal, were definitely not spoiled." he thought as he waited for the first program on his and his family's interest lists to come on.

While the boy, and his siblings, had been spoiled, he hadn't been overly-spoiled or spoiled in the wrong way; Master Tazir had been gift-savvy with all of his offspring—he had gotten the children a few toys, color or paint-by-number kits, books, and models a month. He had loved them kids, which was why he had been so savvy in getting them the enrichment items that they had played or interacted with during their early childhoods; the man had also been gift-savvy with his wife—Mistress Angel would find herself getting a couple of dresses, or other feminine wears, and some jewelry about two to three times a month. The man had also gone out of his way to get her two new pets, and he had also let her re-decorate one of the rooms in his mansion; an empty room, that had been located on the house's fourth level, had been turned into a room full of flowers soon after the opportunity had been made available—that room was still around to that day; Master Tazir was the main one who kept it in tip-top shape. He replaced the flowers when they died; he added new flowers after noticing that an area in the room was starting to look a bit sparse; and he watered and tended the flowers when he was home—when the man wasn't at home, the chore in doing that would go to either he or Eldass.

His employer had done all of this because of one thing and one thing only—he had loved each and every one of them. He had shown his love by expression of not only word but by also action; they had reciprocated his efforts perfectly. Mistress Angel, a woman who had had such a rough introduction into the family that she had been both born and married into, had given him ample amounts of love, trust, and respect and she had also given herself over to him fully. Bile had been fond of playing Search For Daddy in the morning and early evening hours and he had also been fond of keeping his eye out for things for the man whenever he and his mother were out on the nearby cities and towns—on one of them trips, a very expensive ashtray had been purchased. Young Bile, who had known that his father's birthday was just two days away, had wanted to get the man a little something for the occasion and he had done so by getting him that ashtray—which was still owned, and in the house, to that day. And Lhaklar had been fond of jumping, and then climbing up, his father's body, or on his back, to give him big hugs—this child of his employer's had once gotten his mother to buy his father a very elaborate, and expensive, bat decoration, which his father had more than gushed over after waking and then finding it, and a hand-written letter from his son, on his night table the day following its purchase.

Back then, they had been a normal, happy family; now, with Mistress Angel, and her sons, all gone, all he saw was an incomplete family... one that was no longer happy, or content with the world around them. This unhappiness had rubbed off on each of the man's staff; he, and all of his co-workers, worked as they should, but it was very evident that everyone was depressed over the loss of their employer's wife and sons.

The loss of most of his employer's family was much like this: the silver lining had stopped being silver; the gold mine, along with the water well, had gone dry; and the rays of the spheres that the planets in their galaxy orbited had stopped raining down to brighten their lives... That and more was what had happened after Mistress Angel and her son disappeared.

"Can they be any slower tonight—think I counted five commercials in just a minute and a half's time." his lovely wife, whose birth-name was Abara Komav, but who's married surname was his own, said after finally getting herself situated in the chair that sat directly across from the one that he was sitting in.

"Won't be much l—" the sentence that he was about to say was instantly dropped after the program that they were waiting to see came on. He and his wife said not a word more; they simply sat and stared at the screen. Their children followed in their example by doing the same.

"Hello everyone, it's nice to have you all tuned in this morning; we hope that you had a good night's sleep because we, at Exposure Hour, have much to talk about." Upegt Ulinaph, a short man who had tusks growing out from the sides of his mouth, and large, green eyes, said. "To my right is the first of our very special guests," a better than fine image of his employer's daughter was shown after the camera panned to the program's host's right; the white bar that was under her said _EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, daughter of TazirVile Surfeit and Bespe Rakaduc, adopted daughter of Angel Irene_. "A call was placed to our network late last night by Ms. Surfeit, who wanted a chance to be on our show to speak of the recent developments that she, and her father, have encountered over the previous week. Ms. Surfeit—" Upegt Ulinaph turn to Eshal, who flinched soon after he turned to look at her. "—how have you been and how have you, and your father, been coping with the events that have happened in the previous week?"

"We've seen better, Mr. Ulinaph." Eshal replied after a moment's hesitation.

"What's wrong?" Upegt Ulinaph asked. "From what the news reports have said, you and your father were thrilled to utmost happiness last week; what's happened to make you two's happiness drop?"

"My family and their ways," Eshal replied quickly. "Most of what we're currently going through stems from what happened a few days ago—my grandfather... he called my father then told him that he's going to be disowned if he doesn't stop looking for my mam."

Poor girl, Homsi thought; while she looked to of been given a good schooling on how to act while on the set of a television program it also looked like she was having a difficult time in controlling her emotions and on keeping her anxiety in check—the show's host had given her a few signals that everything on the set was fine and he had already held the box of tissues out to her; she had merely given her head a shake after seeing them.

The show that he and his family were watching wasn't a relatively new one; even though it had been moved from one channel to the next, and had gone through a few time-slot changes over the years, it had been shown on the tube for the last five hundred and twenty-four years. Upegt Ulinaph had been appointed as its host about eleven years ago—a dispute between the television network that the show was aired on and Luanie Ecosoon, the show's former host, had caused the former host to pack his bags and then leave for some other program that he had been hired to do. The program was one of them tabloid talk types that touched on what was causing the lives of the ones who came on to be "blue". A lot of the time, normal-day people just called the show to ask if they could be on it—if the emotional trauma that the caller was going through was appropriate for the show, the person would be allowed to be on the show.

The female guests that were allowed to be on the show typically spoke of the issues that they were having with their marriages, or that revolved around their inability to find the other party that was responsible for the creation of their child, or of their life in general. Quite surprisingly, the men that got on the show had more issues to cover—like their inability to have children; or of their being shunned by the girl of their dreams; or of the issues that they were having with their parents, or with one, or more, of their siblings; or of the problems that they were having with drugs, or with alcohol, or even with smoking regular cigarettes; or of their finding, and then keeping, a job. A lot of the time, the viewers of the show just sat and shook their heads, or laughed themselves to a coma; he had a feeling that none of that was to happen during that night's—or, since it was day-break where Miss. Eshal and her father were, morning's—broadcast. Upegt Ulinaph had just asked the question on why Miss. Eshal's grandfather was giving the option of disowning one of his children a consideration; Miss. Eshal looked about ready to throw everything that was bogging her down on the table.

"Because they don't care!" she near-exclaimed. "They want us to forget all about my mam—they want her, and my brothers, to be locked away in a closet. They're acting almost like they don't want her, or my brothers, to be found."

"Could you be mistaken about that? They could be hurting and—"

"No, I'm not mistaken. You don't just drop someone that you love like that," Eshal snapped her fingers. "When you love someone, and they go missing, you don't just search for a while before stopping and then saying that they're dead-ends—not important enough to continue searching for. You don't just go by your life thinking nothing of that person. That's not how it works—when you love someone, you stick by them forever; you don't just love them for a short while then drop them like a bad service."

"That bad?" Upegt Ulinaph asked. The man who was manning the camera was able to catch Mr. Ulinaph's Adam's apple rising, and then falling; it looked like the man had been effected by his guest's words.

"Yes! Everyone's acting like my father's attempts in trying to find and then bring my mam and brothers home is wrong. What are we doing that's so wrong?" Eshal looked at the camera. For a fraction of a second, Homsi thought that he saw the ghost of the face that she would, one day, possess as a grown woman. "We're looking for one of ours that we love—we are not giving up hope! What's so wrong in our trying to find them... and what's so wrong in our getting excited when we're finally getting leads on where they are?"

"So... it's true? Angel Irene has been seen?" Upegt Ulinaph asked.

"Yes—we have several photographs of her, and of another that we think is Lhaklar, the second-oldest of my baby brothers, hunting. There was one person who called saying that he spoke to her—he said that, when they spoke to one another, she used her real name!" Eshal replied right when one of the show's audience asked to speak. Upegt was quick in giving the signal for that person to be given a mic.

"Honey, we have all been watching the broadcasts from this previous week—I think I speak for everyone in the audience when I say that what you and your father are doing is a great thing. You two should be proud of yourselves, I'm sure that your mother is." the woman said after she had been given a mic. "If one of my children went missing, or if my husband went missing, I would be doing the same as you two are. You two are doing nothing wrong."

Exposure Hour was like this; the members of the audience—who were really nothing more than hand-picked individuals who had just been picked up from the street—would talk and give advice to the ones that were on the stage. Viewers of the show would also be allowed to call the program for a chance to speak to the program's guests on what was causing them grief. Usually, only five people were allowed to call in; in contrast, over double of that number from the hand-picked audience would be allowed the "honor" of speaking to the program's usually wacky-consisting guests.

Several people were allowed to stand and talk; many that stood praised Eshal and her father for their searching, wished them good luck, and gave them their support. There was one who said that it might be time for them to give it up—this one individual was glared at by a majority of the members in the audience. A woman had just given Miss. Eshal a good piece of advice on staying strong and on keeping her spirits high when the screen went dark; a series of boring commercials came on, which allowed him enough time to use the toilet. He had just reclaimed his seat when the program returned to the network.

"Welcome back," Upegt Ulinaph said. "Quite a lot's happened since the break—Ms. Eshal has spoken with nine wonderful people; we are about to take our first caller of the morning. Ms. Eshal—" Mr. Ulinaph looked at Eshal, who, despite having a very tear-leaden face, was very calm. "—are you ready for caller number one?"

"Yessir, Mr. Ulinaph." Eshal responded.

"Our first caller happens to be..." two cards were given to Mr. Ulinaph; he looked at the first card for only a second before discarding it. When he looked at the second card, his brow became furrowed. "Our first caller will not be allowed to speak to Ms. Eshal due to his being her grandfather—we at Exposure Hour do not want any fighting to happen in this tender time. The next caller will be allowed to talk now. Can you hear me, ma'am?"

"Yes—I can hear you loud and clear, sir." the honey-sounding voice that came through the screen's speakers was very nearly missed by everyone in the room; if not for the tingle that traveled down his spine, he wouldn't of noticed it.

"What is it that you wish to say to Ms. Eshal, Ms. Bakerly?" Homsi sat upright right after hearing the name of the caller. Ms. Bakerly? The show's host could not of just said that name!

"Is she able to hear me?"

"Yes," Upegt and Eshal said in unison.

"They're still the same, aren't they? After all of these years, they still act like they know it all don't they?"

"Huh?"

"You've grown well—gotten much bigger, and much prettier, than what you was when I last saw you."

"Ms. Bakerly..." Upegt Ulinaph looked uncomfortable and confused; Eshal looked both confused and curious at the same time.

"Who are you?" Eshal asked. "Ms. Bakerly? That sounds similar to what was put on the sign-in sheet at Goggles For All."

"That's because _I am_ the one who signed in there, dear." the woman replied.

"Mam?"

"Yes dear. Figured that this would happen one day... but I never imagined that my taking off with the boys would spark this type of searching, or hurt, to happen with you guys." the jaws of everyone in the audience, along with everyone who was watching the program, were dropped. Homsi had pulled forward in shock. "I've been keeping up-to-date on things—had to after what happened on Viro."

"W...where've you been?" Eshal began crying. "eh... are my br-brothers o-o-okay?"

"I can't answer that—you guys have to find that out for yourselves. I'll give you, and everyone who's watching your show, a clue on where we may be, though. You listening?"

"Yes,"

"Up to recently, you've been searching in all the wrong places. Keep searching where you was told to not search and you might just find something."

The program, which had only just started being run, ended rather quickly for him, and for a good many other people, he presumed, after the call was concluded; Homsi, who caught nothing of what happened after the click of the program's call being put to a close occurred, got up from his chair, tripped over its matching ottoman, then ran to the door of his and his family's quarters, which was located under his employer's mansion. Before he could get out of his quarters, the phone rang; his wife, who was still seated in her chair, had her hand to her mouth—she, as was everyone else in his house, was staring at the television screen in shock. He had a feeling that everyone in the staff's quarters were gawking at their screens... and were probably trying to put what they had just seen, and then heard, into an appropriate slot in their brains.

He ran over to the phone, which was near the apartment's kitchen, and which was one of them normal, hand-held types—he wasn't one of them elegant types, nor was he one for living the elegant lifestyle. He preferred to live like what he was—a peasant. He was content with the life that he had; he didn't need oodles and globs of cash sprouting from his pockets, or a garage that housed anywhere between ten to twenty cars, or a mansion or two to call his own, or three pools in one. In his mind, he had all that he could ever ask for—a four-bedroom, bath and a half apartment; his old, Chevrouette Capie; his better than well-paying job; his health; and his family.

When he got to the phone, he came very close to both ripping it from its base station and dropping it to the floor—he was still worked up from what he had seen, and heard, on the tv; it was probably going to take him a day or two to get over what he had just witnessed. His caller wasn't who he had expected him to be; instead of finding his caller to be his employer, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, who was wanting a confirmation on what had just happened, or who was about to give out a series of orders, the one that was on the phone's other end was none other than his employer's neighbor and good friend, Gloar Rovnitov.

"Hello?" he said after placing the phone to his ear.

"I know that you, along with a good many of other folk, saw the exact same thing that I and my wife just saw." Gloar Rovnitov said.

"I did—I'm trying to calm myself down but, yes, I heard it." Homsi replied.

"I imagine that they're going crazy on Zeta Ren," Gloar said. "The program was cut soon after her call was ended—Eshal was just sitting there, with her mouth agape in shock."

"Don't blame her—I was sitting here with my jaw near-dangling to the floor."

"Nearly fell out of my chair when... she exposed who she was." Gloar cleared his throat twice; it sounded like he was still coming to grips with what he had just seen and heard on his television set. "Vixbie and the kids are going crazy over here."

"The missus and the kids over here are still transfixed to the screen." Homsi said. "I nearly ran out the door, to tell you the truth."

"By any chance do you think you can give me the current number to Tazir's cellular?" Gloar asked. "Maybe I can be of assistance in bringing her in this time."

"Don't think he'd let you become involved but, yeah, I'll give you his number." Homsi said, he then began reeling out the number that went to his employer's new cellular phone. "7...7...1...5...4...3...8...5...4...2—don't be surprised if he can't be reached for a while. He'll probably be using his phone for a few hours."

"I understand, I'll still call and leave a message though." Gloar said. "I hope her father and that family of Tazir's was watching when that call was sent through. They got a good kick in the face on that one."

"Hope so as well," Homsi said. His wife, he was quick to note, had just gotten up from her chair. She looked to be moving around in a sort of daze "Gloar, gotta go. My missus calls me."

"Talk soon—keep the hope and the faith running."

"Always."

The program had the same effect as that of one discovering at the last possible moment before going to bed that the one that they were closest to in their family had just passed away—not only wasn't he allowed to partake in watching the other programs on his family's lists but he was also not allowed to sleep. From the looks of some of his co-workers, it looked like that same notion had been experienced in many other households as well. Eldass Zultoa came in with very heavy bags under his eyes; his oldest son, Zshon, looked to be in a daze when he punched his ticket into the appointed punch-in machine; Losal Khrelan looked about ready to fall over his feet for about an hour before finally getting control of his coordination skills; and many others were seen as having heavy-duty coffees on their persons. Soon after waking, then doing his morning routine, then saying goodbye to his family, then punching his ticket into the machine, he went to work; instead of being quick in doing what he could in the house, he did his chores slowly—so to keep himself from thinking about what he had seen on tv last night, and of what he had seen in that morning's newspaper.

As was natural, the top stories that were heading the papers were about his employer's wife— _No Longer Thought To Be Deceased: Angel Irene Calls Show, And Proves To All That She's Alive_ was the headline for the first story that had been put in that morning's paper. While no interviews had been done on the members of her family, or on her husband and daughter, it was presumed that everyone was more than a little shocked over what had happened last night; he, himself, had heard nothing from his employer since last night's episode of Exposure Hour was aired.

Even though no one spoke during the first six hours of the workday, everyone knew what the other was thinking—and everyone knew that, at one time in the day, the subject about the show's surprising caller would be brought up and then discussed nonstop. He was glad that the first six hours of that day were silent and slow in going by—though tense, and though wanting to talk, he also wanted a bit of peace before the mayhem began. As it just so happened to be, he was meandering into the room that his employer had set to the side nearly sixteen hundred years ago when the first conversation on the show was done; after entering the room, then stopping to look around, he turned to close the door halfway.

"He fixed this room up himself—no assistance was given by family, or Goblin, hands when everything was taken out or when everything that's in here was put up." he thought after halfway closing the door.

There were several shelves and bookcases in the room; framed newspaper articles, or newspaper articles that were being held up by a wooden, or plastic, stand, stood on two of the room's bookcases while all sorts of video tapes and discs, all that contained the news broadcasts, bulletins, and interviews that had been done over the years, lined two of the present bookcases. The photographs of the women who had been thought to be his employer's wife were on the shelves of another bookcase while, on another, there were photographs of the folk who had been thought to be his sons. Everything was aligned all nice and neat; nothing was out of order or was out of place. The bookcase that was near the window contained picture albums on its shelves; duplicate newspaper articles were in each of them albums' pages.

He walked about this formerly un-used room for a bit; the idea of his employer bringing his wife, and whatever offspring he found with her, into the room after she was found and then returned home buzzed around his head like mosquitoes—he could very well imagine the man doing just this. The man, who had just brought his wife, who was way long overdue in coming home, home, would want to show her, and the young ones that he'd also return home with, what all he had done in trying to find where she was. The man's efforts in trying to find her were displayed all over the place, so Mistress Angel wouldn't have to wonder about what all he had done with his life during her absence for long. He could imagine the woman taking one of the picture albums, or one of the framed, or non-framed, newspaper articles, down from its respective place and then taking a seat somewhere in the room to look the contents over; the returned children would probably be a bit bored about what all they were seeing but their mother would be very interested in what was in the room. He, who had done something similar—he had an album stashed under his and his wife's bed; he had a majority of the room's newspaper articles and photographs in it too—, could imagine the look that overcame the woman after she took note of her husband's efforts in trying find her and her children. The woman would probably be very humbled by his efforts; she'd probably—

"Whoa, Homsi!"

He was walking into his co-worker, Losal Khrelan, who he had completely missed in seeing in the room, right when he started thinking about his loyalty to the family that he worked for.

Like with most of his co-workers, his loyalty to his employer's wife had been sealed a long time ago; a few weeks before Lhaklar was born, he, along with all of his co-workers, had been asked to go to the house's library. Eldass had been the leader of the meeting; the man, who had been all nicely dressed in a crisp, white tuxedo and shoes, had stepped forward right after everyone had been accounted for and then gotten situated in the room. _Our Master is happy beyond the word and we have his Mistress to thank for that,_ he had said; _she's given him something that he's never had in a partner_ — _she's given him something that even his own family is too proud to give him. Respect and love, ladies and gentlemen_ — _and of the purest form too. I don't know about you guys, but I'm willing to stick my neck out on her. I'm willing to risk persecution by Goblin Law by both writing her name on my papers and by giving her my loyalty._

By the law given out by their species, a Goblin had to be under the employment of another for more than two years before the consideration of loyalty-giving could be done; one also had to wait an additional two years before said loyalty was given over. Eldass had, indeed, stuck his neck out by signing his Loyalty Papers with Angel Irene's name—he could of been shunned by Goblin society. The penalty for doing such a thing was rather extreme: he could of no longer been allowed to mingle with other Goblins, or be able to hold a job for any amount of time, and he could of also been spoken bad of—either untrue rumors or accurate rumors would of been spread of him, which could of caused his standing in their species' society to go further down the tube.

Personally, his initial opinion, and stance, on his employer's wife hadn't been good; while he had initiated the orders that went along with her care professionally, he had done them quickly just to get away from her—a Goblin didn't just get buddy-buddy with one that he didn't know. One in his species was suppose to approach one that they didn't know with either disdain, apprehension, or plain nastiness. He had executed the early-made orders given to him in looking after his employer's wife's well-being with both disdain and apprehension—at that time, he had concerned himself with just popping his head into the room that she was in, and in "throwing" her enough food and water to keep her sustained for a few hours; he had also done a lot of grumbling when time came for him to aid in cleaning her up, or when any of her injuries were in need of being tended, or when she needed to be looked after after she was noted as being on the sickly side.

At the time, with her constantly assaulting him, and his co-workers, and with her mouth constantly being run without check, them actions of his had been "under warrant". Losal Khrelan, the man that he was currently giving a quick apology to, had been one of the Goblins in their employer's service to treat the woman in the more extreme way that one in their species regarded one that they didn't know.

A good example of Mr. Khrelan's actions towards her lie in the events that occurred after Master Vile, and their employer's father, showed up for a surprise visit; Master Tazir had just gotten home, and he had just given a then-infant Bile to his mother, when the bell went off. Losal had been the only one in the area at the time so he had been the only logical one to grab and then get the chore in keeping everyone in the room silent; since Miss. Eshal, who had been a very young toddler at the time of this event's occurrence, had been in the room at the time, she had also been one of the people that Losal had been given the instruction to keep quiet. While one of Losal's appointed charges had been quiet the other two hadn't; Mistress Angel had done a few moans and groans after succumbing to a bout of her Mately Pains and Bile, in response to his mother's stress, had started to cry. While Eshal had been left alone, Bile had been picked up and then put in the room's closet; only after closing the closet door had Losal gone to quiet their employer's then-unknown-to-them wife—after seeing his two visitors out of his house, and then going upstairs, and then entering the room that he had left everyone in, Master Tazir had found a situation that had just about caused his blood to boil.

Mistress Angel, who hadn't been Mistress Angel at the time of this event's occurrence, had been on her knees near one of the room's walls; Losal had been behind her—thanks to the way his hand was clamped over her mouth and nose, she had been bleeding. Even though Master Tazir had gotten on Losal for his actions Losal hadn't seen any wrong in what he had done.

"Eldass did the usual after slitting his finger—the blood that he used when he wrote Mistress Angel's initials on his Loyalty Papers was pooled into a small, ceramic bowl; a small, ink-less pen was what he used when he signed the woman's name to his papers." he thought after Losal accepted his apology.

After putting the initials of Mistress Angel's name under the initials of their employer's name, Eldass had looked up and then at all of them; even though what he had done was serious, and could of gotten him into a lot of trouble, he had looked quite prideful of what he had done. After a few minutes of considering his co-worker's words, and following action, and then in thinking over what had been going on in the house for the last few months, he had followed in Eldass's example—there had been a lot of _are you crazy_ 's being thrown his way after he had asked if he could use the bowl, and pen, that Eldass had used to sign his papers with and there had also been a lot of gaspings, mumblings, and head shakings going on as well. While around half of his co-workers had followed in Eldass's, and his, example in signing their papers with Mistress Angel's initials there had been some who had downright refused to do so—Zshon, Daosi, Yhozah, and Mekaia Zultoa had followed in their father's example, as had Eclaire, Entantya, and Spleehae. Kalach Speelin had signed his Loyalty Papers a few hours after the meeting occurred while his brother had made the decision to not sign his; Abevo had only placed Mistress Angel's initials to his papers after returning home from his stay at KurukVile Surfeit's place. The Gzujus twins, Ulok and Olok, had refused to place the name on their papers; their papers had lacked Mistress Angel's name for all of six years before finally having it placed on them. It had taken Losal around ten years before the decision to place her name on his papers was made.

In all, it had taken around twenty years before their employer's wife's name was placed on the papers of everyone in his employer's service.

"You look a little out of it this morning." Losal said after noticing that he was doing nothing more than staring into space.

"Huh? Oh, well... didn't get any sleep last night—that's most of the issue that I'm dealing with." he said.

"The rest is the shock from last night's show," Losal said. "Know the feeling; going through it myself."

"Yeah,"

"Did you hear about how Vile put a blocking squad around Earth?" Losal asked after a few moments of silence had fallen between them. He responded by shaking his head. "The radio, about an hour ago, said that he put a squad up to block Master Tazir from getting on the planet."

"Even after last night's show, he's still adamant on keeping our employer from searching the planet?" he asked.

"Looks like it."

"I'm quite confident that Master Tazir will get on the planet," Homsi said. "Didn't the guy see the program last night?"

"No—all shows that have mentions of his daughter in them have been blocked from being aired in the M-51 Galaxy." Losal replied. Homsi snickered silently at this—if not for the spell that he, and, he guessed, all of his co-workers, along with some of the other population in the galaxy, had used, they wouldn't of been able to see the program at all. "From what I've heard, our employer's brother, father, grandfather, and that Trob-guy took a few-hour trip to one of the planets in one of their conquered galaxies to see the show."

"What's Vile's problem?" Homsi wondered aloud. "Doesn't he want Mistress Angel, and her sons, to be found?"

"He doesn't care... he's never really cared about any of them, actually." Losal replied. "Remember what Mistress Angel said when she told us about how he allowed his staff to discipline her?"

He remembered all to well what she had told them; he and Losal had found their employer's wife in the library one day about two hundred and nine years after she, and Young Bile, were fully integrated in the household. She had been upset at the time; after seeing her in her current state, they had gone into the room, and then straight up to her, to see what was up. Instead of it being an issue in her marriage that was bogging her down, she had been upset over something that her father had just gotten through speaking with her about. Right after reaching her side, then asking her what was wrong, she had confided in them about her fear in what her father would do if he ever got permission for Bile to stay at his place overnight.

One of her father's employees had had the nerve to strike her across the face with a book after she had been turned back in age from being two hundred and thirty-eight to five; this man, who's name was Lynster something-or-another, had simply taken the book to her small self without concern for his own life or job. Another man in Master Vile's service had been around to witness this event—instead of going forward to stop the assault, this man, who's name was Kelso something-or-another, had simply stood and watched as it happened. Their mistress had confided in them a fear of hers that revolved around her father allowing his staff to cause harm to their son if he was ever allowed to spend a full night, or day, or a couple of days, at his place; Losal had been furious, as had he, after being told what they had—instead of being quiet on the issue, or giving her a one-shot piece of advice on what to do, they had urged her to tell their employer what she just told them. Neither of them had ever heard of one using a book against a child before; the use of a book to discipline a child with sounded then as it still sounded now to be a very profound way to discipline a child with.

When their employer confronted his nephew on this his nephew had acted as if it wasn't important—the question on Young Bile spending an off-night, or a day or two, at his father's place had been answered right after the man had shown no reaction to how one of his staff had used a book to discipline his daughter with. For Bile's safety, and for his mother's sanity, and emotional health, he had remained under the roof that his mother, adoptive father and sister, and younger, half-brother were living under.

"I remember—acted like it was no big deal." Homsi replied.

" 'You let your servants beat your children; no wonder Angel wants nothing to do with you, and no wonder she doesn't want Bile near you.' " Losal repeated what his employer had said on the day that the were conversing about. He changed the subject after speaking this; with a simple gesture of his hand, he began another subject. "I've been looking at the photographs of Master Tazir's sons for about five minutes now. Been trying to figure out who that other youth is."

"Lhaklar was pretty much seen and identified—images only show but so much; can't wait to see him in person." Homsi said. "Not sure who the other youth is."

"Can't be Hazaar," Losal said.

Owing to how well trusted he and Losal were in their employer's staff, they had both been allowed to hold Hazaar and Lazeer—the former a few hours after he was born and the latter about twenty to thirty minutes after he was brought home from the hospital.

Hazaar, he remembered, had looked them over once or twice before looking over at his father; he had done that a couple of times before getting fussy. Baby Hazaar had been a medium-sized baby; he had weighed five pounds, nine ounces, and he had been measured as being fifteen inches from head to foot—his small size hadn't really mattered any because, within day two of his life, he had been moving around so much that his mother had plain refused to do anything with him while standing. Lazeer... he had been such a weak, tired thing after being brought home from the hospital—very little movement had come from him after he had been slid into their arms, and he had only opened his eyes to take them, and the room that they had been in, in once or twice. They had kept the privileged session of being allowed to hold him to just five minutes before giving him back to his mother. He and his co-workers had waited on baited breath after he had been brought home; they had all expected for Mistress Angel to find a cold and still infant in the crib a day to two days after the home-coming occurred—right after coming home from the hospital, the crib that had only just been put in the new baby chamber had been moved into the chamber that their employer and his wife slept in; baby Lazeer had been placed in that crib about an hour to an hour and a half after being brought home.

Mistress Angel had nursed that baby a lot—quite possibly, it had been that that had caused him to go past his expected life expectancy. After reaching the four-month stage of his life, he had weighed nine pounds; he had gone from being so tiny and fragile—from being only five inches long—to being nearly ten inches in length from head to foot. He had also been moving his arms and legs around a little more at that stage in his life. Also, at that stage in his life, he had started to form a little, horizontal ring of red around his head. Even though it was barely noticeable, the photograph that he was looking at showed that thin, horizontal ring of red; Homsi sighed, he wondered what his employer's youngest son would of looked like if he had remained in the mansion for more than three months.

"Can't be Lazeer either," Homsi said. "He was very fragile, and small—although he had gotten bigger, and had put on some weight, during his few months of being here, he was still not very healthy."

"You don't think Mistress Angel went and had an affair on Master Tazir do you?" Losal asked. "That's all I can come up with on that one youth."

"It'd be a shock if she had." Homsi said. He stared at the room's displayed items for a few more minutes before turning and then making a silent retreat; as expected, he went back to work with a mind that was heavily clogged with thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

The article that had been placed in the August 26 newspaper was read by everyone in her family before being clipped and then placed with all the other newspaper articles that had mentions of Angel and her sons in them; right after putting the scissors away, then filing the article in one of the available openings that were in the album, she turned her attention to her granddaughter—Eshal was a mess. She had been quite emotional after her show's premature conclusion; no amount of tissues would of been able to dry her face, or stop the tears from falling, and the hand-picked audience had been in such shock at the time that they hadn't been of much help either. Mr. Ulinaph had been the one to escort her from the show's stage; one of the cameramen had taken over in escorting her from the room that the show was shot in, the man had been in the process of leading her to a vacant room when her father ran up to take over her care.

Tazir had done his best in looking after her; he had seen to bringing her back to the house, then in making her as comfortable as possible, then he had asked if both she and her husband could look after her. Her son had only returned to the building that he had only just come from after seeing that she was in good hands; a full investigation on the call that had come through had been done after the building had been emptied of most of its people.

Tazir had been in the building at the time of the show's airing; instead of being in the audience, or just lingering behind the set's stage, he had made the decision to wait in one of the building's back rooms. From what she had been told, he had just gotten a glass of water from the room's available water dispenser when the call was placed and then put through. Tazir had charged out of that room almost immediately after the caller's false name was given; by the time he had been nearing the set's stage, he had been yelling for the show's producers to keep the call on the line. A team of four men, who had been working as the show's security, had managed to stop his progress in going to the stage right when the call was cut; if not for them, he might of been able to speak to Angel and get a few more clues as to where she and her sons were.

She, along with all of the members of her family, had reacted in the same way after "Ms. Bakerly's" real name was announced—their jaws had just dropped, and had stayed dropped for all of two minutes before finally finding themselves being shut. It was a shock that Angel had called the show, and it was even more of a shock that she had given them a clue as to where she and her sons may be. Rhelome Nafal, the phone technician that her son had called earlier that previous week to track the number that Angel had placed to Navub Babusa's establishment, had been called in to do a track on the call that had been placed to Exposure Hour; he had been swift in finding that the call had come from the same place that the other one had come from—from the very same payphone that was located in Albany, New York. Tazir, not one second after learning where the call had stemmed from, had ordered for one of the Goblins in his military to head to where the call had come from; the Goblin, upon coming back, had looked right pale in the face.

The man had come within a fraction of an inch of both seeing and then being able to capture Angel. From what he had told her son, after appearing in the location, then going straight to where the phones were, he had seen a splash of red going across the wall that led away from his location; the sound of someone running, and then the sound of a door being opened, and then shut, had been heard for all of five seconds before total silence was encountered. Judging by how the lines to one of the four phones that were in the area had been out and in the open, the man guessed that she had been in the process of severing the phone's lines when he appeared in the area.

The news was running stories on this development like crazy; there were more than two articles per newspaper on this development—she was doing the best that she could in either clipping and then storing the articles that were found in the papers or in taping the stories that were being run on the news; Tazir, she was sure, would want each and every one of them and, really, so did she.

As of two hours ago, Tazir had turned his eyes towards the planet that the call had stemmed from; both he and Cheshire were trying to gain access to the planet to do another search—thanks to Vile, and his "squad", they were finding themselves unable to do this. Master Vile, despite not seeing the show, but knowing full well that something big was going on, had being adamant on their putting a stop to their search. He was telling them to go home now. Just thirty minutes ago, Tazir had made the decision to go to the Space Trafficking and Routing building that was located on the planet Qay, which was in the Ewrlo Galaxy; he had requested permission to enter the planet on grounds of substantial evidence of one of his missing being on it. As expected, Vile had shown up; there had been a brawl... the two of them had gotten into it with both their fists and words.

The Space Trafficking and Routing judges couldn't do a thing due to the planet being legally owned by Vile; from what she had been told, her son was now on Brol. A new case had been instated on his nephew—this one revolved around him gaining full rights to entering and then leaving the planet that his wife was said to be on, and for him to be allowed to search the planet for the members of his family that were said to be on it.

Cheshire was waiting; instead of being on Brol, with her son, he was on the moon that orbited Earth. Efagti was with him; she had a feeling that they were all going to the planet after her son's case was won—in her mind, there was nothing standing in her son's way to prevent him from entering the planet; most everyone in the Universe had seen yesterday morning's episode of Exposure Hour, so most everyone had heard the call and knew about the given clue that Angel Irene had given to Eshal.

"Why wouldn't she speak of my brothers?" Eshal, who had more than three blankets wrapped around her, and who had a cup of cocoa in her hands, wondered aloud. "I asked and she—"

"Possibly wants us to find that answer out for ourselves." Ashaklar answered.

"Lhaklar's alive, I wonder if Bile is too." Eshal said distantly. "Hazaar as well."

"I'm sure that we'll find out after we get on the planet." Ashaklar said.

"You mean _if_ we get on the planet." Eshal said fiercely. Some of her cocoa spilled from the cup; with the way her hands were trembling, she wasn't able to hold the cup very steady. Ashaklar took the cup from her gently then placed it on the coffee table. "I can't believe this! Vile bars us from the planet after we find that she's on it, he claims that the caller was a fraud, then he fights my daddy..."

"I don't think the man cares much about anything but himself," Ashaklar sighed. "Himself, Rita, Rito, and Thrax."

Thanks to how well trusted she had become with Angel, she had been told a few things that revolved around Master Vile that made her mind do somersaults. After catching her that second time, he had used a bull whip on her; he had used a spell to turn her, and her two, older half-siblings, into children; he had let his staff beat and injure her with books; he had been very destructively disciplinary with Bile; and he had also been quite verbally abusive to both her and her two sons. She knew that the man had also tried to kill Lhaklar and Bile one time when they had been infants and she also knew that he had actually been successful in killing Angel—while trying to gain her powers back, Angel had encountered her father, who had tried his best to prevent her from doing so; her father had shoved his hand into her stomach, which had caused a large, bleeding wound to appear. The scars from the man's constantly given abuse had been very present on Angel's body then; she was sure that the woman still had them scars on her. Even though Vile had been successful in killing her, the Universal Gods had prevented the success from being a full one—they had sent her back... they had said that she had left the life that she had been given way before her scheduled time then they had sent her back. She was grateful for this; the Universal Gods had corrected a wrong... had returned one who had so many loved ones. She had also been told of how that man had raped Angel for days—Bile had been the result of one of them given rapings, sadly.

If Bile was alive, and if his mother had told him of how he had come to be created, he would surely have something to hate his father for. What child, of either gender, would want to love a parent who had harmed the one that they were closest to? What child would want their father near them after being told that he had abused the one that he, or she, had been born through? And what child would want to be near the parent who had wanted to discard them in favor of creating someone better than them?

She wished that she had had the courage to leave Duru after Qeeta was born; even though she had enjoyed motherhood, she had been scared of his hurting their son further. His abuse had been worse than bad; not a day had gone by without her growing fearful of his killing their son. She had been scared then of Duru beating their son into a coma, or of his abuse causing one of their son's lungs, or his heart, to collapse or to stop working; his abuse had already caused their son to walk around a little on the funny side, so there had been no need in worrying about his abuse causing that to happen. She was marvelously proud of her son; he had lived through all of the abuse... he had matured well and, most importantly, he was an excellent parent. Not once had he used a stick on Bile or Lhaklar or Eshal; not once had he used a fist on one of his children; not once had he insulted or belittled them; not once had he used his Elemental powers against his children in an attempt to spark up their powers. He had been patient. He had let his children be children. He had let them develop and show their powers when they saw ready to do so.

"Your father will find your mother, and what sons she has." Ashaklar said to her granddaughter. "He'll find them then he'll return them home—that one youth included."

"I want to know who he is." Eshal said.

"So do I," Ashaklar said. She then repeated what she had just said. "So do I."


	13. Part 2

Soon after appearing on the planet, then blinking his eyes to gain a better focus of the world around him, he saw that there was a span of around ten to fifteen miles of green grass around him. The island that he was on had a length of twenty or so miles; most of that was taken up with grass while, to the north, at the island's front-end, was a small forest. There was a white path going all around the island; the area behind him had some benches, picnic tables, and canopies set up in it. The river went around the island; there was an upthrust of mountainous rocks to the left of the river—the color of this rock was either dull brown, light brown, medium brown, dark brown, or cream. A line of trees—Cottonwood, Douglas fir, and spruce, he did believe—were growing in front of the rock. There looked to be a few areas before the island's one, small forest that either dead or dying sugar cane or tall, yellow grass was growing in.

The ruins of the houses that had once dotted the river's waterline were to the right of the river; his stepson had told him a few days ago about how the humans had tried to make use the river's edges by making homes on them—the overall population, at the time, had been quite high and just about any space available had been required to be put to use for familial purposes. After The Green Plague, an illness that had run rampant for three, long years, which had claimed some one to two billion persons, occurred, the houses that lined the edges of the river had been abandoned. With the planet's population having been dropped to a more suitable level, humanity had seen itself able to return to more comfortable, non-cramped living conditions. The natural disasters that had come in next had given further aid to the environment, and the humans; the houses that lined the riverbank had been allowed to go to shit, and the area before the waterline had been allowed to reclaim what had been taken from it, thanks to them.

As he looked at the area around him, he reminded himself to keep his eyes open—the judges that presided over the Elder Courts had reached a decision quickly; Tazir was to have full option and abilities on Earth while he searched for Angel and whatever sons she still had.

When he started taking a further in-depth look at his surrounding environment, he saw that there were other, smaller islands nearby. Unlike the island that he was on, these island were flat in appearance and had been allowed to become overgrown with foliage—thick bushes; small to medium-sized pine trees; rocks; and grass was what he saw when he took in these smaller islands. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew that there were a set of rapids nearby—he could hear the water churning. He was just starting towards the path that was closest to him when his sons, Efagti and Amadh, appeared.

Even though Amadh had been told to stay at home, and tend the house and its animals and produce, he had insisted at the last possible minute to tag along if clearance was given for them to be on the planet; his secondborn son had been the one to spread the word on Tazir's case being won and on their going to Earth to the rest of their family and he had also been the one to relay the word from Ashaklar about their dropping by Earth to see what all it looked like now. His wife, along with all of their children, and Eshal appeared on the island right after Efagti and Amadh did; each of them did as he had done in looking at their surroundings.

Just before being barred, and then banned, from touching foot to the planet, he had explored a section of the mountainous rocks that lay to the island's right—they fell steeply on both sides but, unlike the side that was facing him and his family, the other side slid down then smoothed out. The environment that was on the other side of the mountainous rocks was very desert-like; he had seen all sorts of tracks in the sand—not like that of what an animal or human made, but like that of what a vehicle would make. It looked like ATV's, a sort of recreational vehicle that was used by thrill seekers, were frequently used in the area; the humans, it did seem, had made good use of the area. While at the peak of the rocks, he had noticed that there were a few roped-off canoes and other water-faring vessels tied off, or onto the trunks of the trees; a few heavy-duty bikes and other recreational equipment had also been seen after he had looked down from his climb.

"This was searched before?" Eshal, his step-granddaughter, who he treated as an actual, full-blooded granddaughter, asked after going past him. Eshal had put a halt to her forwarding action after going ten or so steps towards the island's forest.

"Yes, your father searched it thoroughly." Cheshire replied.

"The forest looks so overgrown... how can anyone get in there?" Eshal asked.

"By picking their path carefully—turning sideways at the right time, and ducking low to avoid the branches." Cheshire said. "And someone who both knows and was raised in this area."

"Do you think... Lhaklar," Eshal started to say.

"Could of been raised in this area—yes, it's a possibility." Cheshire said. He looked at Defe, who was starting to wander from her mother's side now, before speaking again. "But I doubt it. They'd of been seen, and known to us far before now."

Even though there were other places on the planet that they could search, both he and Tazir had figured that Expedition Island, and its surrounding area, was the best bet for them to look into further—although Angel hadn't been specific on where they should search for her and the boys they had had a feeling that she had meant for them to search the area that they were all in. Other than the location in Albany, New York, where the payphones were, it was the only other area where she had been noted as being in—and, other than the Albany, New York location, this was the only other place that they had definitive proof of her being in.

The planet that they were on had had a difficult time after the year 2016 came and went; three plagues had struck, taking almost four billion lives, then the planet had been struck by a plethora of natural disasters, like hurricanes, tornadoes, and quakes. Japan had slammed into the European continent in 2069; only after several battles occurred had it become a part of that country—one of the battles that occurred after the collision happened had sparked the planet's fourth World War, which had started in 2070 and had lasted for nearly three years.

The lost city of Atlantis had been discovered—or, parts of it anyway. Something had happened to blast the once-fabled city into bits; there were five known locations where the city's ruins had been located. Animals had been discovered and described; animals had gone extinct; and humanity had continued to grow in size. In 2134, the species had recovered from the plagues. Only after the tally went to over seven billion had something happened to drop the species' numbers. Hurricane Wilhem had struck the east coast; it had caused over five trillion dollars in damage, and it had claimed over fifty million lives. Mount Shasta, Mount St. Helens, and Krakatoa had all erupted at the same time; their eruptions had sent clouds of ash and poisonous gases into the air. On estimate, their combined eruptions had caused nearly a hundred million people their lives. The state of Florida had gone completely underwater following a tsunami, which had been a hundred feet high; even though all of the population that had been living in Florida had perished, or "gone missing", the death toll hadn't been able to be calculated. The state of Hawaii had gone up in smoke following the complete eruption of Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park; all five hundred thousand persons living on the island of Hawaii had perished. San Francisco, Santa Cruz, and San Mateo had all been destroyed after the quake of 2153 struck; an estimated five hundred thousand to two million had died. And an extreme form of Avian flu had struck the planet, taking some one to four billion with it as it ran its course of nearly six years.

Of the Rhinoceros family, only the White rhino still existed; efforts had been made to preserve the lone-remaining species after its cousin, the Indian rhino, went extinct in the latter part of 2020. The Bengal tiger, Sumatran tiger, and Malayan tiger had all been hunted to extinction by 2034 while their cousin, the South China tiger, had only just been saved from extinction—the final twenty individuals of the species had been tracked, darted, and then taken to a series of zoos, where the species had remained for a hundred and twenty years before finally making a return to their wild environments. Of the three elephant species that were known to be on the planet, only two—the African bush variety and the African forest variety—remained.

Humanity had made their movies on the animals that had gone extinct, and on the planet's natural disasters, plagues, and wars; the ones behind them films had gotten good and rich almost immediately after each films release—although the purpose behind them films had been good, the ones who had watched them hadn't taken it in fully. Animal life on the planet had still been hunted—the elephant, in particular, had very nearly been wiped out after the films on the rhinoceros's had been shown, and more than two species of whale had been wiped out. The films that had been made on the plagues and natural disasters had been seen as Disaster Films while the films on the wars had mostly been watched by older audiences—the younger generations had plain refused to see the films on the planet's various wars... they had said something around the films being boring and of their not wanting to waste their time in watching them.

Michael Jackson, the pop icon that he and Amadh liked the music of, had passed away on June 20, 2009—the story on his passing said that he had been given a type of intravenous-like medicine that'd aid him in sleeping; the stress and pressure that he had been under when he had been planning his final tour had caused him to not be able to sleep, which had only caused his stress levels to increase. Steve Jobs, the guy behind the Apple computer, had passed away on October 5, 2011—a relapse of a previously treated islet-cell neuroendocrine pancreatic cancer was behind his passing. That fine fellow who loved animals greatly, especially reptiles, Steven Irwin, had died on September 4, 2006 after getting impaled in the chest by a Stingray's tail spine—he had been doing a shoot for a program that his daughter, Bindi, was doing called Bindi the Jungle Girl. Shirley Temple, an actress that Homsi Modulavich and his wife, Abara, liked had had a peaceful passing on February 10, 2014. And Etta James, a musician that Eshal was particularly fond of, had passed away on January 20, 2012—Leukemia, which she had been diagnosed with having a year earlier, was the cause of her passing.

The overall population on the planet was one billion strong; it had yet to recover from the recent plague, but it was still going—due to all that the species had faced over the last twenty-two hundred years, the eyes of the other species in the Universe called them a Survivor Species.

"Tazir'd be called a sort of animal preservist by the humans," he thought as he watched Qhuakiz step away from his mother's side.

Angel, he remembered, had been especially sweet on Tazir when his birthday came around; not only did she wake before he did, but she also turned his clock off—so it'd not disturb him, he liked to believe. Only after the clock was off had she gone down to the kitchen; one of Tazir's favorite breakfasts would be put together, then placed on a silver tray, then carted up to him. Tazir would wake to find his wife entering his bedroom chamber with the tray; the food would be placed before him, a kiss would be placed to his cheek, he'd go on to eat, then Angel would announce that he was to follow her to Earth for "a surprise". A great many of them "surprise" trips had revolved around Angel taking Tazir to a cave of some sort to take in the resident bats; Tazir had collected around twenty Great fruit-eating bats and about forty of the Kitti's hog-nosed bat on the first trip that he had been taken on. He had bred and taken good care of them; owing to their being extinct, they were right valuable now. The Great fruit-eating bat had gone extinct in 2090 and the Kitti's hog-nosed bat had gone extinct a hundred years later. Humanity had tried to save the Striped bat after it had been discovered; sadly, fifty years after its discovery, it had gone extinct—Tazir had been able to get ten of the species on the third birthday trip that Angel had taken him on. He had a colony of a little over a hundred now. They were extremely valuable now.

Tazir had also caught ten Egyptian fruit bats—at the time of his collection, the species had been listed as Least Concern on the IUCN list; it had gone to being critically endangered in 2089 and then it had been listed as extinct a few years later. From what he had heard, a huge colony of over a hundred thousand Egyptian fruits bats had been found in 2112; as was natural, the discovery of this colony had made the species go from being in the extinct category to the category that it had been in when the ten individuals that had started Tazir's colony had been captured.

Tazir hadn't just collected bats on the trips that Angel had taken him on; he had also gone deep sea diving for fish collecting as well. He had collected ten of the Humpbacked turretfish on the first trip to Earth then, on the second, he had collected four Platypuses—he had taken such a liking to the animals that he hadn't been able to fathom leaving without having a few. Even though Tazir had managed to keep Angel's excursions to Earth down to one per fifty years he had enjoyed each of the trips that she had taken him on.

"Hi daddy," Eshal said after her father teleported in.

"Hello Eshie." TazirVile said.

"You won your case?" Ashaklar asked her son.

"Have free rein—we can come and go as we please." TazirVile replied.

"Where do we look first?" Amadh asked.

"Of the island? We've searched nearly all of it." TazirVile replied. "Today's search is to be held across the river—on the mainland."

No word was expressed on their needing to teleport from the island; Defe, Qhuakiz, and Blaiga were left on the island while the rest of them moved over to the river's right side. Soon after appearing on the right side of the river they spread out then started looking for things that seemed out of place or out of the ordinary. They had no more started searching before one of them yelled; Tazir, as quick as lightning, ran over to where Amadh was. Amadh had found a blood trail which, after being tested by the kit that Tazir had brought along, was deduced to being that of what had formerly been owned by a deer—TazirVile gave a warning for all to be careful after his kit told him what had left the blood then went back to searching the area.

Efagti and Cheshire sent up a chorus of yells next; upon getting to their area, TazirVile found that they had stumbled upon a set of prints—it looked like someone had startled a trio of deer, then had given chase before either stopping to find some other suitable prey animal or leaping onto one of the animals that he, or she, had been pursuing. TazirVile, Cheshire, and Efagti followed the prints until they stopped at the water's edge; after finding where they went, they stopped, turned, then went back to searching the rest of the area. By the time they had returned to searching the main area out, Amadh had gone a ways from everyone; instead of leaving the blood trail be, he was following it.

Twenty minutes in on his following the trail of blood, Tazir called for everyone to return to the area's clearing; while he heard the call, he didn't go back or stop in following the trail as it wound towards a section of tall sugar cane, which was about a quarter of a mile from where everyone else was. The blood, he had taken very clear note of, was much thicker and darker now.

"Probably a bear—a bear caught the deer, then dragged it someplace to feed on without having to worry about it being stolen from him." Amadh thought, then added, "It was probably a momma bear that made the kill."

Amadh remembered reading up on the animals that were known to be on Earth once, about nineteen hundred years ago; he had been fascinated with the planet's various known animals and he had asked Angel if she could point out the ones that were better known on the planet. She had told him all of what he had wanted to know; instead of speaking in person, or using a pen and paper to speak through, they had used a phone to conversate on the issue that he had wanted intel on. He had enjoyed every minute of that conversation; she had been, and she still was, he presumed, a very smart woman. He had learned a lot about her and she had learned a lot about him during that conversation.

She saw hunting as something one should do as a means to gain food for the table; while she accepted one keeping certain things from a kill she frowned on one hunting something for just its pelt or horns— _when one hunts_ , she had said, _he should concern himself with the whole animal and not just the things that can be rigged up on some wall_. She had spoken a great deal on the planet's Grizzly and Black bears—which, she had said, were two of the most dangerous predators of North America—and she had also spoken at length about the Puma, or Mountain Lion—owing to the loss of its habitat, and human encroachment on the areas that it lived on, and a shortage of the animals that it preyed on, it had become a highly endangered animal more than four times in the last twenty-two hundred years. According to Angel, the Grizzly and Black bears had up to three or four cubs once every three to four years—she also claimed that only one or two of the cubs born to them two animals reached maturity. _Mother bears have a lot to worry over_ , she had told him; _besides humans, they also have to worry about male bears, wolves, and food shortages_. Amadh stopped when he realized that he might be in danger; Angel had told him once that mother bears were highly dangerous—they became especially enraged after something came up that was a threat to their offspring.

He was just about to turn around when he heard a sound—a low whistle... like someone whistling a song or something. With the whistle being noted, he crouched low then crept forward stealthily.

"Amadh the explorer—that's me. I stalk the meek animals, and the mighty beasts that roam the planets that I travel to. I make my records; I take notes; I snap pictures like crazy. I've made hundreds of discoveries, I've saved many animals from poachers, and I have a pet-dog named Vluubom, who comes with me whenever I'm out exploring the land." he started thinking. "I am Amadh Ubalki—explorer extraordinaire! I've gone down raging rivers, crossed endless deserts, swam the deepest of oceans, climbed the highest mountains..."

He went on with his thinking; the whistling got louder as he got closer to it. He was now duck-walking into the area that had the tall, yellow sugar cane in it. As he got closer, he heard something striking bone; a scraping sound, then a sound of something being cut, was heard next. He slowly crept forward, pushing the stalks of the sugar cane to the side slowly while doing so, and doing all that he could think of to keep the sound of his progress down. He was trying his best to keep quiet—to not make a sound—and he was being slow and careful in where he put his feet. While he progressed towards the whistling, he made sure to not step on any rocks or kick, or nudge, any rocks or sticks; it was only when he reached the end of the small field that he noticed that the whistling had stopped. After noticing the silence around him he stopped, then gave his surroundings a good checking—with no predators around, stalking and possibly hoping to add him to their menu, he stepped forward again. He only stopped this second progress when he reached the field's end; when he peered out from the stalks of the sugar cane, he was treated to seeing the back of a big man, who was stooped over the body of a large, male deer.

It was very evident to him that the kill had been made some ten to twenty minutes ago; the horns had been removed from the animal, they were lying a few feet from the man, and there was a cut running down the animal's underside. From what he could tell, the man had dragged his kill to this location—there was a trail of blood running from where the deceased animal lay; it ran right over to where he stood.

Amadh slowly pushed the stalks of the sugar cane to the side to get a better look; the man, to him, didn't look normal. He didn't look like a normal human.

"Ma será esta noche feliz—algo que nos mantendrá durante unos días," the man, who, he was able to detect, had a deep voice, which sounded both strong and powerful, said. "Soy el protagonista de hoy."

He knew the language that the man had spoken in; to the humans, it was called Spanish but, to the ones who lived outside of this planet, it was really called the Dushoi. What the man had said was really quite simple—he had caught something that would last a few days, and that his mother would be happy with what he had caught, and that he would be seen by his family as a sort of hero. Amadh found what the man had said to be strange, at first, then, after thinking over the man's words for a few seconds, he figured a possible explanation out—the most recent plague that had happened on the planet had happened two hundred years ago; it was quite possible that some of the human population had reverted to being hunters and gatherers and it was also quite possible that he had happened on one of them reverted people.

Amadh was right confused about the man's appearance; he saw the man's head, but his shoulders looked much too high and big on his body. He looked rather deformed. The man sounded young; he had a youthful sound to his voice, which he was able to pick up on quickly. He figured that the man was in his late teenage years; humanity wasn't immortal like the other beings in the Universe—they hadn't been given the privilege of gaining the gift of immortality yet.

The man placed a big, fix-blade hunting knife down at his side then reached into the deer; even from his distance, Amadh was able to see that he was in the process of removing the items that he wanted to keep from the animal. Amadh grimaced right after the man's hand went into the animal's stomach; humanity must of gone down in not only physical appearance but also in standards this past sixteen hundred years, he thought—typically, when one collected the items that they wanted to keep of the animal that they had brought down, they'd cut the meat from the bone and then put it on a tarp or a spot that had been cleaned up. The man wasn't doing this; he was tearing the meat from the deer and then tossing it down on the dirt like it wasn't nothing.

"Ahhhhmahhhhdh..." he heard distantly. The man in front of him stopped when the sound of his name being called reached his ears. "Ahhhmahhhdh..."

The man must of decided to disregard what he was hearing; he went back to harvesting his kill's meat and organs—the intestines were pulled out from the carcass, then thrown over his shoulder. They bounced on the ground twice before coming to a stop. The man removed the liver, which was said to be the most important part of an animal, then placed it to the side; the kidneys were removed, then the heart and lungs. Them organs were placed by the liver; the man went to collecting the meat from the animal next—the pelt, he now noticed, had already been removed from the animal; it lay to the side. It was flesh-side up—the man had known enough to leave the flesh-side up so that the heat and sun would dry it some.

Amadh was thinking that this was right smart; it was hot out—a bit too hot for his liking. It was eighty-three degrees in his area; that heat was doing wonders in baking the flesh... hardening it so it wouldn't mess up the fur that was on the pelt's other side. The man seemed to know what he was doing; it looked like he had been trained well on how to conduct a hunt, and on what was safe and not safe to take from the animal that he brought down. The flesh part of the pelt would have to be scraped away later, but that would be all—if the man was as smart as he thought he was, he might throw a handful or two of salt on it, which would aid to dry the pelt's underside faster.

The man was in the process of slamming a good chunk of meat beside him when Amadh's name was called again.

"Amadh!" it was his father this time; his mother had been the one to call out for him earlier. "Where are you?"

It all happened in slow motion after his father called for him; the man pulled himself up straight then slowly turned towards him. Amadh's jaw dropped when he saw what the man really looked like. He was tall, standing at six foot, three inches, and had a good sized body to him; he looked to weigh around two hundred and fifty pounds, and none of that was fat. He had a good, strong body that looked to be full of good, strong muscle.

He had elongated ears that went only half the length of his shoulders; they were a dark green color, there were a series of light green, Tiger-like stripes on both of them. The left side of the man's head was yellow while the right side of his head was green. When Amadh and the man locked eyes, Amadh saw that he had glowing yellow-green eyes; the pupils that were in the centers of them eyes were small and black in color. The man was wearing a pair of dark brown pants; the shirt that he was wearing was a medium-brown color, it had two to three tears in the chest and stomach regions. The brown boots that were on his feet were of the heavy-duty sort. Lying nearby was a thin quality, light brown wool jacket.

After taking note of the man's main physical features, Amadh stepped out from the sugar cane. The man and he stared at one another for a decent stretch of nearly two minutes before any sort of conversation was started.

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded to know.

"Ah-Amadh Ubalki,"

"If you've got your sights set on stealing my deer you best turn around and leave." the man said. "There's plenty around here, leave mine be."

"I'm not looking for any deer," Amadh said. "I'm looking for a woman."

"Heh, aren't we all." the man chuckled. "The nearest town is ten miles away; it's a bit sparse on females, but you might find what you're looking for."

"Amadh!"

"Sounds like your clan is looking for you, best make ten and run." the man said.

"Bile?"

He had put everything together; he remembered well what Bile Vile, Angel Irene's firstborn son, had looked like—the man standing before him looked very identical to him.

The man looked at him for nearly a minute before stooping down; he grabbed his hunting knife, turned it towards him, then held it at-the-ready. When the man took the knife up from the ground, he had been able to notice that he had long, dark yellow fingernails. When the man moved his right arm, he saw that his wrist was skeletal in form. Master Vile had inherited his skeletal genes from his mother, Irka, who was one of the Sketon people; Master Vile's whole right side was skeletal in form—from shoulder on down to foot—and it was a dark blue color. Amadh remembered that Bile had inherited some of his father's skeletal genes—his whole right shoulder had been skeletal as had his right arm, from the elbow on down to his wrist, and he had also had skeletal knees. Amadh held his hands out, to show that he had nothing in them, then he started walking around in a wide circle. The man, who was no man at all but a youngster who was around two thousand, two hundred years of age, and who looked about ready to spring at any hint of danger, followed him as he did his circling.

"Who are you! How do you know my name!" Bile demanded.

"Amadh—don't you remember? I was the one that you were constantly trying to jump on—you were constantly trying to wrestle me when you was a kid."

"And you was too damn tall, and too well-balanced, at the time for me to do so." Bile said. "What're you doing here? What do you want?"

"I'm helping your father look—"

"Dark Dad? You best head your blue ass out of here," Bile snapped. "I want nothing to do with that crook."

"Tazir,"

"Who?"

"The man who adopted you... you use to grab him by the tail of his tuxedo jacket and then—"

"Ooooooh, that guy. The one that I tried to get to pull me around by the tail of his tuxedo jacket." Bile chuckled. "Fun times—'mush pop, mush.' 'Move along, lil doggy, move along.' "

"You remember well." the corners of Amadh's O-shaped mouth curved up in a smile.

"I'm not one of them overly forgetful freaks," Bile said. "I may be big but I'm not an oaf."

"Didn't say you was."

"Hrrrrmmm,"

"Amadh!"

Amadh had gone around Bile in a half-circle; when his father and Tazir walked out of the stalks, they saw nothing but Bile's back side—it was an automatic thing that they thought that he was DuruVile Surfeit, and it was also an automatic thing that they addressed him as such.

Bile turned around quickly; his act in turning to take in the area's new arrivals gave Amadh an opportunity to rush forward. Upon rushing in, then placing his hand on the youngster's arm, he noticed that he had made a way-wrong decision; Bile turned around just as Ashaklar, Eshal, and Efagti walked out from the sugar cane. He swung his fist, which caused an explosion of pain to erupt in his jaw—he had never in his wildest dreams imagined, much less expected, for Bile, a youngster who knew who he was, and who also knew that he would never lay wrong hand on him, to react in such a quick, and violent, way! Right after Bile's fist collided with his jaw, he saw stars; he fell to his rump soon after the stars were seen.

Cheshire, after seeing his son being assaulted by the man who he perceived as DuruVile Surfeit, rushed forward to defend him; he got a nasty surprise after doing so. Bile, fresh from his assault on Amadh, an uncle of his that he hadn't seen in over a thousand years, turned around fast then grabbed the man by his throat. With one, clean jerk of his arm, then a dip of his body, he body-slammed Cheshire to the ground—he slammed him hard enough to either cause a rib or two to break or for the man to lose his breath.

TazirVile fired one energy strand at the man who had just gotten through body-slamming his stepfather; his attack struck Bile on his shoulder, it caused him to twirl once before falling to one of his knees.

"I don't get you, Father. You tell me that you're going to disown me then I find you on the planet that my wife was last seen on?" TazirVile said as he helped Cheshire to his feet.

"Tazzy! That's not Duru, that's Bile!" Amadh exclaimed.

Bile got to his feet quickly then turned to look at his kill; for a few seconds, he pondered on leaving it, then, at the last possible moment, he decided to save it. When he stomped his foot down, the deer, along with everything that he had collected from it, disappeared after the ground flipped over. Amadh had not a chance to wonder what had happened to the deer; his vision was a bit blurry, and he felt a little sleepy. Bile, as quick as grease lightning, took off running; Efagti and TazirVile gave chase right after he started running. At first, the two of them gained on the young man; after Bile added a burst of speed to his run, which caused him to charge and then crash into the sugar cane, they lost him.

After losing him, they did what they thought was right in searching for him; they searched all over, even Expedition Island, and the other, smaller islands that were nearby were searched. Not so much as a trace of him was found; after two hours of searching, they returned to Expedition Island, where Ashaklar had gone to be with the three children who had remained there. Cheshire had since recovered; it had taken him thirty minutes to feel near to like his old self again. Amadh, while standing, and moving around a bit, was still not himself; while his vision had cleared up, he still felt sleepy. Eshal was extremely excited; she had never expected for them to come upon Bile. When she saw her father exit the field of sugar cane she ran forward. She hugged him tight; he returned her hug.

"That makes two!" Eshal exclaimed. "Two that we know that are still alive!"

"Angel said she had a feeling that Bile was going to be a big man," TazirVile said. "She was sure right on that—big and strong!"

"Almost as tall as his father—just an inch shorter than Vile is." Cheshire said.

"Any ribs broken?" TazirVile asked his stepfather.

"Think I might have a cracked or bruised rib or two, nothing major, though. The kid is strong, like you said." Cheshire replied. "I'll take care of my injuries when we get back to Zeta Ren."

"I suggest we stay here," Eshal said. "That way if he returns—"

"He won't return," Amadh said. "Nothing for him to come back for."

"What about his jacket?"

During their searching for the one who they had stumbled upon by, what she fully thought and believed, pure chance, she had gone over to look at the item that Bile had left behind. The jacket was one of them long types; it had been made out of a thin quality wool that was a light brown color. She had looked through each of the jacket's pockets; either Bile had nothing on him to house in any of his pockets or the pockets of his pants was where he kept his pocket-worthy items in—nothing, no keys, or wallet, or spare coins or cash, had been found in the jacket's two pockets. Though the idea of leaving the jacket in the clearing that was in the center of the sugar cane had crossed her mind, she had decided to take the jacket with her—who knew, maybe Bile would want it back and, who knew, maybe it'd be the thing that they could use to capture him, or draw him closer to them, with.

Tazir walked over to his mother; he took the jacket from her, looked it over a few times, then placed it in a plastic bag—the pockets of his tuxedo jacket had three, rolled up plastic bags in them; he had made sure to be more than prepared for this excursion. After storing the jacket, he looked up then nodded at everyone; they all teleported to Zeta Ren after he nodded his head.

TazirVile, soon after appearing on the planet, teleported to the building that the main part of his investigation was taking place in; he gave the stored jacket to one of the three men that were in the building, then told them to test it—after explaining who he and his family had happened upon, he asked for them to test it to see if Bile's DNA was on it—then he teleported back to the house that his mother and stepfather, and their family, owned and lived in.

After getting back to the house, then explaining what he had just done, he found more than four confused faces looking at him—Eshal, Ashaklar, Amadh, and Cheshire all thought that his action was strange; in their minds, they had seen the jacket near Bile, so he had to of worn it, and there was no mistaking who it had been that they had seen. Cheshire, who had since taken a seat on the living room's S-shaped couch—his ribs, after the teleportation home, had started giving him grief; it was either he stand and do the best he could in not voicing his displeasure over his aching sides or he sit and get a bit of relief—, was the only one of them to ask why he had asked one of his investigators to get a DNA sample from the article that they had come home with.

"For Vile, who was quite open when we were on Brol about his son's survival status. I'm quite sure that any samples that come from that jacket will be Bile's—the results of the test will be a rub-in-your-face type of thing." TazirVile answered his stepfather's question. After noticing his younger, half-brother's stance, he turned then acknowledged him. "Amadh, you okay? You look about ready to get sick over there."

"Not sick—Bile has one of them punches that just about takes everything out of you." Amadh replied. "I'll need a nap here soon."

"Take it easy." TazirVile said. After saying this, he turned to look at his daughter and mother. "I'm heading to Moas for my ship; after seeing Bile, I'm willing to become a temporary resident on Earth. For a little while, at least."

"Vile going to allow that?" Efagti asked.

"Vile's not going to stand in my way—I have free rein to do as I wish in my searching on that planet." TazirVile replied. "And that includes my landing my ship there, and living in my ship during the time that I'm conducting my search."

"Make room for nine extras—I, my family, and Qeeta are coming with you." Cheshire said. When TazirVile turned, then looked at him, he casually crossed one of his legs over the other. "We're with you every step of the way, Son. Think we're going to let you have all of the fun in chasing down your wife, and what sons she has with her? We've been with you this far, I see no issue in us sticking by your side now—Bile's family to us as well, same as Angel and Lhaklar."


	14. Chapter 14

From the Beglilles _Taphloz Juynol_ , August 27, 4099 (Page 1)  
Bile Vile Discovered Alive

It's not often that one is so swiftly removed from both the Missing and the Deceased List but, as of yesterday, at around noon-hour, it was done: Bile Vile, the son of Vile Vile, who's known far and wide as Master Vile, was reputably seen yesterday by not only his adoptive father but also by most of the Ubalki family. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, the son of DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit and Ashaklar Zoopray, was quick in going to Earth after winning his court case on Brol; to literally appear on the planet, and then come upon one of the missing members of his family, is both outstanding and shocking—if not for a DNA sample being acquired, and then tested, the claim would not be believed.

Perhaps following in his famous great-grandfather's, DuruVile Surfeit's, footsteps in being discovered long after he was declared as being deceased, the young son of Master Vile, who was born through Angel Irene, who is yet another child of Master Vile, but who was claimed by Master Vile through Family Law to be his Family Mate, was found in the same location that his adoptive father had previously searched before finding himself barred, and then banned, from the planet; many are wondering if the boy's mother hadn't placed her son in the location, or if it was just a chance encounter—twenty-four hours before the encounter occurred, Angel Irene phoned a well-known talk-show called Exposure Hour. After speaking with her adopted daughter, who was on the show's stage, she gave a hint as to where she, and her sons, are. Other than the location in Albany, New York, the place where Bile Vile was seen is the only other location that Mr. Surfeit has searched. Mr. Surfeit wasn't able to search this location after hearing that he and his had been searching in the right area; soon after he, and his stepfather, Cheshire Ubalki, appeared on the lone moon that orbits the planet they were apprehended and then escorted to a distant galaxy—orders for them to remain away from the planet, and to return to their lives, were given by the planet's owner, Master Vile, fifteen minutes later. A squad was swiftly placed around the planet to prevent their entering it thirty minutes after the order was given; instead of adhering to the order given to him, Mr. Surfeit went to Space Trafficking and Routing, an establishment that's located on the planet Qay, which is in the Ewrlo Galaxy. With the judges in the establishment not being able to help him in gaining access to the planet, Mr. Surfeit turned his attention to the Elder Courts, which is located on Brol—Judges Prog Erusha, Furlaknor Murgiccon, and Nuelo Wontwoon were swift in handing him a court order that gave him full rights on conducting a search on the planet, and to do what he wishes to do while being on the planet, for the ones that were said to be on it; with what was seen yesterday, it looks like that order was correctly given.

"It seems that we arrived on the planet at around the time that Bile's hunt was concluded—my younger brother came upon him when he was starting in on a buck-deer." Mr. Surfeit said after being questioned on how his adopted son had been found.

Amadh Ubalki, the brother in question to of come upon Bile initially, claims to of spoken with the young boy for a short while before the encounter went south—not knowing that the youngster was his son, Mr. Surfeit shot a beam of energy at him after he attacked his brother, who has been said to of been running towards him at the time in an attempt to both subdue and then capture him, and then his stepfather, who had been going forward to both help and give his downed son some protection. Though not harmed by the attack, the youngster did run off; he left behind a jacket, which had enough DNA on it to validate that it was he who had been seen.

"He looked in great shape—was very healthy—, and he has one heck of a punch to him." Amadh Ubalki said when questioned on Bile Vile. It's been said that the youngster, after being jumped on by his uncle, turned and then punched his uncle before being attacked by his adoptive father. "I was in a daze for a while after his fist collided with my jaw—I saw stars, and I was forced to take a nap after getting home. It took me two and a half hours before feeling well again."

"My wife said that her oldest son was going to be a big man one day—I haven't seen him in over sixteen hundred years, so I didn't know that it was he who was attacking my brother. If I had known that he was the one attacking Amadh, I wouldn't of attacked him." TazirVile Surfeit said after being questioned on his son.

"He stood about six foot, three inches tall; looked to weigh about two hundred to two hundred and fifty pounds—Angel's taken very good care of him!" Cheshire Ubalki, the adoptive grandfather of the boy, said after being asked about Bile Vile. "He's quite strong as well—I sustained four cracked ribs after he grabbed, then heaved me up, then body-slammed me to the ground. I feel no ill feelings towards his assault—we haven't see one another in so long... it'll take him a while to know who I am again."

According to sources close to Mr. Surfeit, the boy was quick to get to his feet after being attacked; the deer, that he had been seen with, disappeared soon after he got to his feet. Bile Vile's actual father, after hearing word that his son had been seen, said that he didn't believe what was being reported and that he'd not allow for his uncle to have the boy's death certificate, which he has both the original and a copy of. Master Vile claims that the sighting is nothing but bologna—'a bunch of lies', he said after being questioned on the sighting.

TazirVile Surfeit's sights are still set on the planet that Bile Vile was seen on; he's saying that, regardless of what his nephew claims and says on his son, he will still search and bring him and his mother home. He's also saying that he'll be bringing any and all children that were born to Angel Irene in the years that she was missing home as well; there's been no sightings of LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, and the youth that was seen several times last week hasn't been seen either.

One of his staff had been "naughty" that morning; while he could care less about what one in his service did when they were at home, or when they were driving from Point A to Point B, he did care about what all they had on them when they came in for work. One of his senior-working servants had been found with having the top-run newspaper that was put out on the planet Beglilles, which was in the nearby GR-264 Galaxy, on his person; along with getting on the man for having such material on him he had also confiscated the item—the original intent, at the time, had been for it to be tossed into a wastebasket; after seeing the newspaper's top story, and the name that was on the story's headline, he had just had to read it. Now with the article read, and his interest in the item satiated, he went ahead with his original plan; the newspaper was crumpled up, the fist that it was nestled in became engulfed in an orange energy soon after the paper was in a more manageable state—with the paper now being burned, he tossed its remains in a nearby wastebasket then went to work in looking through the stack of envelopes that sat before him. He had no more started working on this stack—on removing the contents of each envelope, then reading what was inside, then acting accordingly to each article that he found—before finding himself doing the same thing again.

Someone had had the nerve to clip the same newspaper article from a different newspaper and then mail it to him; since there was no return address on the envelope, he couldn't persecute the one responsible for sending it to him. He was quite use to getting no-return mail; sometimes, people who wanted to remain anonymous with him sent him things. People who despised him, and his rule, sat at the top of this category while secret admirers, both of the male and female gender, or people who were playing the act of being Stuck Ups, were under them; for all he knew, one in his family could of dropped the non-addressed envelope in his box that morning. He did as he always did after finding them no-return envelopes—he evicted the contents, then placed a piece of plastic over them to ensure that any foul items that lie over them didn't get on his skin, then read them, then disposed of them by using his Energy powers. He went back to the stack of envelopes afterwards.

"The old man, or my mother, or my grandmother—one of them is the possible sender of that article." he thought as he went back to opening and then looking through the stack of envelopes that were on his desk. "Everything, from newspaper article to a bulletin that's put on the tv, that has mentions of my daughter in it has been banned from being published or spread via the wavelinks, so the one behind the sending of that article had to of both gotten it from one of the planets in a different galaxy and know the time when it's "safe" to slip unnoticed things in my box."

It wasn't so much that he didn't care, because he did, and it wasn't so much that he wasn't hurting inside, because he still was; his animosity towards what was still being thrown around in the Universe stemmed from how annoyed he was over how his uncle just didn't seem to want to accept it that she was gone and that he should go on with living his life. The continued searching wasn't needed anymore; it had already been deduced that she was gone and that she wasn't coming back so why was he still continuing with it—the man had already shown that he didn't care about the feelings of his loved ones and, quite sadly, and shockingly, he had also shown how messed up he was upstairs long before now; it looked like he was looking to add further shame to what he currently had on his shoulders.

He might not of spent as much time with Angel as his uncle had, and he might not of gotten the love from her that he had wanted to get, but he did love her. After Dione and her brood had shown up to invade his father's place, and after Angel and her two sons had been moved from Gamma Vile to Moas, he had said that she'd escape again and, looky here, friends and neighbors, she had and, this time, she had done so for good. He'd be a liar if he went and said that he hadn't been looking forward to it; he had just been sitting back, biding his time until she left. He had been waiting for the time to spring up and say _I told you so_ to them; unfortunately, instead of her being found and then returned to the planet that she had taken up residence on for five hundred years, she had disappeared and she hadn't been seen since.

It had surprised him that Angel had settled down after being taken to his uncle's mansion on Moas; it had further surprised him that Angel had given herself over to his uncle fully, and that she had allowed herself to birth two more sons by him. His curse he had kept on her; he had fully intended to have her only birth his children after that first ill-gotten brat, Lhaklar, had been conceived and then born. Sadly, and quite angrily, she had used the age-old ways of getting what a woman wanted on him to get it removed. By ways of spinning pretty words, and using her body to get him all worked up, she had gotten the curse removed from her; she had made him look like a fool... he had gotten more than a little hot around the collar after hearing that she had gotten pregnant soon after the curse was taken from its appointed station.

Instead of looking at the invite, then burning it and saying that he wasn't going, he had attended the birth of the child who had been conceived shortly after the curse was taken from her. After learning that the baby was a girl, he had launched a plan in trying to hurt his uncle's confidence; right after arriving at his uncle's place, then taking up the room that he had been given, he had gone around, boasting and saying that _you might of gotten lucky the first time with the creation of a son but, on your second, you just went dry with the Y-chromosome_. More than half of his foot had sailed into his mouth after his great-grandfather had noticed that the baby had been born as being a boy instead. _I got lucky on the first try then the luck went dry?_ , his uncle had said after discovering that the baby was a boy; _I don't think so, Nephew. It's a boy_. That had been hard for him, his pride had taken a good beating on that one.

It had taken a hundred years before he had gotten his revenge on the both of them—on Angel for her seductive act on him and on his uncle for creating yet another son with his daughter.

"Did her good—daddy punished her better than well." he thought after reading the final letter that was in the stack.

Angel had put forth the claim that she was coming to his place to do a sort of exercise on them that'd do more than strengthen their relationship—she had said something about the dust needing to be sweeped from the shelves, and about the air between them needing to be cleared, and she had also said something about a sort of understanding needing to be reached between the two of them on "the children". While he didn't know the real reason behind her coming to his place he did know that he had been looking forward to her visit—and to the ensuing acts that would follow.

He had let her in himself, then he had taken her bag up from the concrete strip that lie before the front door; instead of having Lynster, or another of his staff, take the bag up to the chamber that she'd "stay" in he had done it himself. He and she had spoken all the way up to the chamber that he had "disguised" as being one that wasn't being used; upon entering said chamber, then saying the spell that caused all of its "normal" items to go to being those that were housed in the one that he slept in, he had tossed the bag to the side and then rushed at her. No more Mister Nice Guy, he had said; he had rushed at her, had grabbed her up by the middle, and then carted her to the bed. One twist of her body, a quick maneuvering of his own—she had been kicking at the time and he hadn't had a desire to be kicked in the spot that she had been aiming for—, then a good stare had happened; Angel had known that she was in trouble almost immediately after being grabbed.

He had given her a better than fine lesson on that day—the Don't Cross Daddy, and the Don't Make Him Look Like A Fool-type of lesson. Even though he had wanted to keep her—he could well of done so... a potion, which could of made her memory of the past five hundred years disappear, could of been forcibly consumed—he hadn't done so. She had returned to his uncle a week after appearing on his doorstep—while she had been a battered up mess, full of all sorts of cuts and scrapes and bruises and bite marks, her spirit, and the fire that had burned in her, had still been intact. He had been smiling rather broadly on the day that she had left his place; that smile had only gotten bigger after word had reached him that she had found herself being pregnant two weeks after returning to Moas.

He had been loud in saying that the baby was his, and that he had full plans on being involved in its upbringing; even though his spirits had been dropped for two days following the announcement of the pregnancy he had still retained that pride. His mother, two days after Angel's pregnancy was noted, had said that her unborn might not be his—despite being horribly sore, and full of all sorts of injuries, Angel and Tazir had coupled on the night that she had returned to him. His stomach had gone cold, and he had stood stock still, after hearing that Angel had had the nerve to couple so quickly with his uncle then, after realizing how long he had had her in his home, and underneath him, he had started feeling better. The child, he had said, was surely his; his mother had continued to say for him to not act, or be, so sure on that—it had taken her all of four days before finally putting an end to saying this. He had found himself relieved, because, on day two and three, he had started wondering if she wasn't right. It had taken him another week to feel back to his old, happy self again after the pointing out was concluded.

When his daughter went into premature labor, then had her fourth child—another son, but not by him... another son born to his uncle—he had been shocked, then enraged. All of that teaching had been for nothing... all of what he had done to her in the week that she had been with him had been for nothing! She had deceived him again by giving birth to yet another son by his uncle.

"And, what's worse, they tried to pin the blame for her early delivery on me." he thought as he pushed himself back from his desk.

The anger over another son being born to his uncle through his daughter hadn't really had a chance to sink in on him; the worry over his daughter's well-being—just because he was disgusted by her being his uncle's Universal Wife, and over her favoring his uncle over him, and just because he was angry at her didn't mean that he didn't show concern over her health—, followed by the dual-shock over her being taken to the hospital, and then giving birth to another son, and over his being blamed for the early birth of said son, had overshadowed that anger perfectly. He wasn't sure who started it—his mother, possibly, but he was more leaning towards the woman that his great-grandfather's uncle was married to as being the one who had started the rash of finger pointing—but, once the rumor had started about his being the one to make the baby be born early was started it had just raced along, going from one person in the family to the other.

Did you put any curses on Angel? Did you say a spell that'd cause her to expel her unborn baby? Did you do something to make the baby sick after he was born? Are you the reason why he's out of the womb so early? He had been asked all of that and more after Lazeer had been born and then put in the NICU; he had been honest with each of the ones who had asked them questions—while he did know spells, charms, and curses that could cause a woman to evict her unborn baby, and while he knew ways on removing a baby from a woman's womb without the use of a spell or charm or curse being used, he wasn't responsible for the early delivery or for the baby to be near death's door. Nothing on his part had been done to cause Angel to go into premature labor or for her next brat to be born so early.

While Angel had been in the hospital, worrying herself to death over the state of her newborn, he had been squabbling with his family; he had only snapped after his parents had continued on with their calling and question-doing. The keys to a vehicle of his had been retrieved then he had gone on rather long trip about five days after the early birth occurred—after appearing on their doorstep, then being let into their home, he had started roaring his lungs out on what he had and had not done. As expected, a fight had ensued between he and his father soon after he had been admitted to the house; he and his father had, at one time, been close to one another but, after being disowned for his "crime" of conquering Gamma Vile, and then the whole of the M-51 Galaxy, that close-knit bond of theirs had fallen. The relationship that he had with his father now was no where near where it use to be. Soon after the fight between he and his "famous" old man started, he had found himself being thrown from the house; Father had said for him to cart his ass somewhere else and to not come barging in, screaming and throwing accusations, on him and his again.

Lazeer had been brought home nearly three weeks later; he had been said to have a two-day life expectancy by the doctors that had been appointed to look over his care. He had kept up-to-date on everything that had happened: on how the kid was doing, on how his daughter was doing, and, above all, on how his son was holding up.

"Bile... like with Rita, Rito, and Angel, I loved that kid to pieces." he thought after noticing that there was a letter that he had, somehow, missed in reading.

Even though his youngest son had been a spoiled rotten thing, he had loved him and he had still been clinging to the hope that he'd follow in his footsteps in becoming the heir that he wanted to have—even though he loved Rito to death, and would kill to protect him, he couldn't deny the fact that he was extremely stupid... Rito, his oldest son, was one of the worst heirs that a father who conquerors galaxies for a living could have.

He had been able to see the spoiling very early-on; Bile, even as early as two hundred and two years of age, had been so spoiled rotten, and had been carrying such an air around himself... he had been embarrassed by both and he had also been concerned over both. All he had really needed to do was look at the kid to see the spoiling that had been instilled on him—the running around, screaming his fool head off at any chance that he got; the receiving of this thing and then that thing on a one to two-time basis per week; the allowing him of running, and then jumping, into the ocean with his clothes on; the allowing of him to play with mud, or dirt, and with folk who came from much less colorful pedigrees than himself; the act of allowing him to eat what he wanted to eat... his uncle, and Angel, had spoiled that kid rotten and, sadly, they had also prevented him from reversing the damage that had been done on him.

He had disciplined his son a few times, yes; mostly when he spoke back, or didn't behave, or do as he had told him to. Nine times out of ten, after that discipline was given, he'd run to his mother, or to his uncle, or to that one Goblin that he had been unhealthily attached at the hip to. An attempt on getting his son to act right had been done one day, when he had tried to get Angel to let their son come to his place for a few hours, or for a single night or day; both she and his uncle had seen wrong in his asking of that privilege, so he had been prevented from being the corrective party of the child. He had also tried to talk to them on the spoiling but they wouldn't listen. _This is my son, you might have adopted him but he is my son,_ he had said one day after his uncle had placed a call to his number; _he's not going to mature into a conqueror while being in his current state. He needs to be taught to be better_ — _not be spoiled._ He had fully intended on having his son go to his educations; the forms for schools such as Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, The Dark Academy, The Academy of Evil, and so on and so forth had already been half-filled at the time of his son's three hundredth birthday—with his son still being so badly spoiled rotten, and acting more like a peasant than one of good breeding, he had made the decision to abandon them forms. He hadn't been able to fathom the idea of sending someone who was so badly spoiled to a school of such caliber. _Let him be a child; let him experience being a child before he is to grow up,_ his daughter had said one day; how is being spoiled rotten being a child? After his son reached the age of five hundred years, he had sort of given up hope that he was going to be as he wanted him to be. A conqueror—someone to be proud of.

As he had seen it, his uncle had robbed him of his son. Uncle Tazir had robbed him of his wife, of his son, and he had also robbed him of further children.

Angel had disappeared with his son a hundred years after that realization occurred; like with the rest, he had done his part in looking for the both of them. While he had given the fliers, and done the bulletins, broadcasts, and interviews, on Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer to the masses half-heartily he had been fully involved in trying to find Angel and Bile. He had never accepted Lhaklar, Hazaar, or Lazeer as his grandchildren; he never would, actually. He had one grandchild now—a grandson, who he was thoroughly proud of. He just couldn't see himself being proud of Lhaklar, Hazaar, or Lazeer. They were his daughter's sons through another man—his uncle—and they had been wrongly conceived and then born. His uncle had stolen the woman that he had taken on as his wife, and that he had seen and taken possession of first, and he had made three sons with her; all he had from Angel were lies, deceit, and one spoiled rotten son.

"One envelope? Looks more like a three to me." he said after noticing that there were two other envelopes under the one that he had just taken up.

The envelope that he had in his hand had come from his mother; the envelope that had formerly been under that one had his grandmother's address on it while the one that was under that one had Bahne Brotzol's address on it. He merely looked at the latter envelope before placing it to the side; while the lady was a beauty, and while she was related to him, he barely knew her.

Only after placing the one envelope to the side did he reach down to pull the front-lying drawer that was on his desk out; the case that his letter opener was in was removed from the drawer slowly then the drawer was returned to its appointed slot. Only after placing the knife's case, which had been made out of high-dollar maple wood, and which had a blood-red velvet interior, down on his desk's surface did he open it. He was quick in using the silver and mauve paper-knife that had once been in the case; when the envelope was open, he placed the knife back in its case then returned to examining what it was that was in the item that he had just opened.

He was expecting for the old usual to be in the envelope—his mother was fond of sending him two to three update-letters a month. Topics such as how she was doing, and on what all was bothering her on a day-in to day-out basis; on how his father was doing, and on what all he was up to with his conquered realms, or with his life in general; on how Triskull and Dara were doing, and on what all she wished they'd put a halt to, or on the issues that they gave her that gave her concern; and on how his younger siblings were doing would be written of on the first two to three paragraphs then topics such as what was going on with his uncle, and on how much she worried about this person or that person that he didn't care for or knew about would take up the next two to three paragraphs. The first paragraph would consist of her just being parental towards him—expressions of love; her snapping at him for things that he had either done that she had just found out about, or things that he had yet to do or that he hadn't done; and projected concerns would be found in that paragraph.

While there was a letter in the envelope there was also something else in it that made it feel heavier than usual—he, on instinct, up-ended it. He found himself feeling surprised after a single sheet of paper, and a round disc, fell from it a mere fraction of a second later. He set to reading the letter right after it landed on his desk; the disc he slid to the far side of his desk—while he loved his mother he also harbored a bit of mistrust in her. Who knew what the disc contained on, or in, it.

 _Dear Vile,_

 _This letter will be a quickie—I'm right busy over here; things have just about gone crazy and I've yet to adapt to them. If you don't already know about it, Eshal, your cousin, was an attendee of her first-ever show three days ago; during the running of the show, a call was placed through—believe it or not, the one who called her show was none other than your own missing daughter, Angel. That's why you've met with so much opposition this past seventy-two hours, Viley—Angel gave your uncle a hint as to where she is and he was trying to follow up on it. Her hint must of been genuine, because Bile, your and her son, was seen yesterday._

 _From what your uncle's told us, he, along with some of the Ubalki's, thought that he was your grandfather at first. He was said to be in better than excellent health and, get this, he seems to be way ahead of schedule—it's presumed that he had just gotten through hunting an animal; as you know, your brothers, Baruk and Sudir, have yet to be allowed to pick up, much less handle or use, any of the known tools that one uses when they're out hunting and they don't know, or have, the skills that go along with the hunt either._

 _You really need to undo the ban that you have going on with this galaxy, Viley—quit being stubborn and accept it that things are being found. While Angel has yet to be seen your uncle is holding up hope that she will be and soon; we, that's your father and I, went on and told the kids about what happened with your daughter and her sons. While a bit angered over being left out on knowing things they know—or, at least, I hope they do—that we didn't keep what was going on with Angel and her sons from them without a good reason. We've also told them that we'll be heading to Earth here and soon—we want to be apart of the search and we want to see Angel and her sons, V. While Lhaklar's been seen, and while now Bile's known to be alive, we still don't know anything about Hazaar or Lazeer, and we still don't know who that one youth who was seen a few days last week is either._

 _We're wondering if you're going along with us or if you're staying on Gamma Vile. We're sure that you'd want to see Bile and Angel, we known you miss them._

 _Hoping to conversate with you soon on this over a different means—had to write this while throwing together two suitcases, and getting your younger siblings to do the same, and trying to get your father to calm down so he won't have a heart attack._

 _Love you, Mom_

Of course he missed them! What father wouldn't miss his son or daughter? What father wouldn't want to know where his son or daughter was? While Angel might of deceived him by running away, and by fighting and then injuring him, and by joining forces with ones who he had deemed unfit and dangerous to her, and by becoming involved with that gray-haired man, and then with his uncle, he still loved her. Bile might of been a spoiled rotten kid, and he might have been a bit of an obnoxious little shit, and he might of been a bit disrespectful, but, dammit, he was his son and, like Angel, he loved him.

Master Vile put the letter from his mother to the side; even though he had taken the letter in fully he had no intention of heading to Earth to play merry old Ghost Search with his uncle. There were things here that he both needed and wanted to do; he had other things to grow, or become, concerned over. He had his galaxies to govern; he had his life to look after and worry over; and he had his older children, Rita and Rito, and his son-in-law, Lord Zedd, and his grandson, Thrax, to think about. Rita, Rito, Lord Zedd, and his grandson were coming over soon; he, as always, was looking forward to that. He and his son-in-law might not see eye-to-eye, and he might not still hold the man favorably, but, dammit, he accepted him—he was in his oldest daughter's life, and he was the father of the one grandchild that he accepted as his.

Master Vile took up of the few, precious minutes that he had left by reading the contents that were in the other envelopes that he had taken note of. The envelope that his grandmother's address was on contained a letter that was near-similar to that of what his mother had sent; like with his mother, and her family, his grandmother, and her family, were planning on going to Earth soon. Bahne Brotzol's letter was short; he read it in a little under a minute before throwing it in the nearby wastebasket—like with his mother and grandmother, and their families, Bahne and her family were planning on taking a trip to Earth as well.

After reading Bahne's letter, he looked at the disc that was nearly hanging off the side of his desk; he toyed with the idea of picking it up for a second or two before doing so. He was quick in noting that it was a MemorDisc—a device made for containing specific memories, which were usually taken from the one, or ones, who had a desire to mail them to either a friend or a family member that was a distance from them. Nine times out of ten, the device was usually sent to people who were stubborn—which, now that he thought of it, he was. Master Vile sighed, then looked up at the ceiling of his office, then placed the device down on his desk. After giving it another think-over, he pressed the button that was on the top then leaned back. His eyes came close to bursting from his face after the thing started playing the memory that had been stored on it.

"Bile?" a voice that he couldn't place a name to, and that he didn't recognize, said.

The place where the memory had taken place in was either overgrown with sugar cane or tall grass; the oval that the memory was being played out on had been silent for all of two seconds before the unknown voice was heard—in them two seconds, he had been able to see the backside of one who he, at first, had taken as being a man. The one who owned the backside had stood, and then turned around; the proof, as much as it pained him to believe, was staring him in the face!

The man, who was no man at all but his own, young, and still very much alive, son, was tall; a quick estimate told him that he stood at least six foot, three inches. If he had to make any guesses, the one in the oval weighed anywhere between two hundred and two hundred and fifty pounds—and none of that was fat either! He had a good, strong body that looked to be full of good, strong muscle.

His son had gotten much more sturdy over the years; them elongated ears of his, which ran half the length of his shoulders, and which were a dark green color, and which had a series of light green, Tiger-like stripes on them, had filled out significantly—they were no longer thin, or looked about ready to fall off the sides of his head! The bi-coloring of his son was still the same—the left side of his head was yellow while the other half was green—and he still had them glowing, yellow-green eyes. Even though he couldn't see his pupils, he knew that they were still small and black in color. Bile was wearing a pair of dark brown pants; the shirt that he was wearing was a medium-brown color—for some reason, it looked to have two or three tears in the chest and stomach regions. The brown boots that were on his feet were of the heavy-duty sort.

"Who are you! How do you know my name!" the youngster in the oval demanded.

"Amadh—don't you remember? I was the one that you were constantly trying to jump on—you were constantly trying to wrestle me when you was a kid." the voice of the memory's owner said.

"And you was too damn tall, and too well-balanced, at the time for me to do so." his formerly lost son said. "What're you doing here? What do you want?"

"I'm helping your father look—"

"Dark Dad? You best head your blue ass out of here," Bile snapped—for a fraction of a second, he was able to see the edges of the fangs that his son possessed on his top and bottom jaws. "I want nothing to do with that crook."

"Tazir,"

"Who?"

"The man who adopted you... you use to grab grab him by the tail of his tuxedo jacket and then—"

"Ooooooh, that guy. The one that I tried to get to pull me around by the tail of his tuxedo jacket." Bile chuckled. "Fun times—'mush pop, mush.' 'Move along, lil doggy, move along.' "

"You remember well."

"I'm not one of them overly forgetful freaks," Bile said. "I may be big but I'm not an oaf."

"Didn't say you was."

"Hrrrrmmm,"

"Amadh!"

Before the memorical taking ended, he got a chance to see that Bile had a large, fix-blade hunting knife in one of his hands—like when he had been younger, his son had long, dark yellow fingernails coming out from the ends of each of his fingers. He groaned when the disc stopped playing; unlike them other MemorDiscs, which could be played back, or kept, the one that he had been sent had a one-time play, and its contents couldn't be saved or even recorded to another source. After the disc died on him, he took it up then tossed it in the wastebasket; after doing that, he stood then started pacing. He began to wonder if what he had just seen had been fabricated; he tried to think up the disc's intended purpose as that to get him interested in what his uncle's "search" was drabbing up. Try as he might, he was just unable to make himself believe that what he had just seen was a fake; the details, and the imagery of his son, had been too perfect, and real, for it to be anything other than real.

Memorical takings, when fabricated, looked damn fake—looked roboticized, in other words. The voices that he had heard wouldn't of been heard as clearly as they had if the contents on that disc had been fake—they would of come out echoey, or shaky, if it was a fake. After pacing his office for ten minutes, he went then sat at his desk; once seated, he looked over at the nearby mirror.

His office was just as Gothic as one of his caliber would want it to be; the carpet had a gray and black checkerboard pattern on it while the walls, and ceiling, were a dark gray color. The fainting couch, that sat to the far left of the room, was black; it had two, black pillows on it that had dark gray, chain-like bars running across their middles. The two chairs that sat before his desk were dark gray in color; the spiraling legs that they sat on had been made out of pure Onyx. The backs of these two chairs had all sorts of spikes on them.

Really, the only thing that had "color" in it was his desk, and even it was Gothic in origin—the dark red cherry wood was nicely buffed up while the black Onyx designs, that crisscrossed here and there on its surface and sides, were a little less shiny. The MV that was styled on the front of his desk, and that was also on his desk's surface, had been made out of pure gold—like with the desk's cherry wood, the two letters were very nicely buffed up. The items that were on his desk's surface were basic—a lamp, which was black, and which had a black shade on it; an 8-tier, section mesh desk organizer, which had two office files and a few pieces of paper on it; a calendar; the case to his letter opener, and his letter opener; and a vial of ink, that was what was on his desk at the moment. His black and gray feathered quill was in its case, which was in the first of the two drawers that sat to the desk's left side.

Two solid black, glass tables were stationed to either side of the room's slide-out doors; black roses, which sat in crystal vases, sat on both of their surfaces. The black marble fireplace, which was in the middle of the room's right-side wall, had a series of life-like, blood-red ivy vines on its mantle and sides. The torches, that were on the room's walls, were all lit up; the oil vases, that were under them, caught any and all oils that decided to drip from their cone-like bottoms. The mirror that he was looking at was both large and long—it went from ceiling to floor, and it also had a width of three feet on the sides. The snake-designed frame that surrounded the glass was a very dark gray, near-black, color.

"Look a bit pale this morning, Old Man." he said aloud after taking in his reflection.

When he was inside his residence, he liked to dress more freely; while conducting business outside of his house, he preferred to dress more menacingly—in his mind, one of his caliber shouldn't go around wearing items that made them look silly or not serious; he had an image to keep up. He wasn't called the feared conqueror of worlds for nothing; although everyone already knew that he was a warlock, or warlord, as some called it, and knew of his status, it didn't hurt to go that extra mile or two in trying to keep his image intact. Image was everything outside; inside, you could dress, and do, as you wish. You could let yourself out. Breathe a little. Goof around.

He preferred to be professional outside for another reason; besides his accumulated titles, and his rank as a conqueror, he was also a bachelor. He had become a widower after Angel disappeared; while he fancied ones of the opposite gender he wasn't one who liked having women clambering all over him or driving him batty. Even though his wife was gone forever from this life he had someone—in his mind, he was still a married man.

That early morning, after waking, then doing his morning routine in the bathroom that was adjacent his quarters, he had dressed himself in what he had put on when he had been at his father's place after Angel had finally been caught that final time in 1999. The black silk robe, that he was wearing, was slightly open in the front—some of his chest could be seen, thanks to the state that he was wearing it in. The cape, and its attached hood, that was on the back of his outfit could be removed if he had a preference to not wear it—the intended purpose in wearing the cape and hood was to give his at-home image a "cool" appeal, which he did believe was happening. The shoes that were on his feet were black and as shiny as could be. There were six earrings hanging from each of his ears; not only were they very well polished but they were also as shiny as could be. There were two rings on the fingers of his right hand—the one the adorned his index finger had a silver skull on it, which had a gold cigar in its mouth; the one that was on his middle finger had an Amethyst skull on it, which was held between two skeletal hands, which had been made out of pure silver. The belt that was around his waist was a very dark purple color; it was pulled in tight—but not tight enough so he couldn't breathe, though.

He had worn this outfit three times while being at his father's residence; at the time, he had been showing his body off—his vigor, and his strength, had been very showy on him. He had been trying to get some attention from Angel; had his attempts been successful? Eh, no. She had neither said anything nor bat an eyelash at him—she had been too busy with that woman-friend of hers, and with them Goblins that had been appointed to look after her, and with the kids to take notice of him.

Master Vile sighed, then stood from his chair; he was in the process of leaving his office when the doorbell rang. They were here! His two, older children, Rita and Rito, his son-in-law, Lord Zedd, and, most importantly, his grandson, Thrax, had just arrived for their much anticipated visit. As always, he hurried along; instead of having his staff let the four in he preferred to do it himself.


	15. Chapter 15

"Take it easy, Sudir." Irka said as she began the process of escorting her youngest son from her husband's ship.

"I feel sick, mom." her son said. As if to confirm this, he stopped then clamped his hands over his mouth.

"Do your best to not think about it, okay?" Irka said. "You see that little clearing over there?"

She stopped, placed her hand on her son's arm, then pointed at the area where a few picnic tables, benches, and canopies were.

"Yeah," her son replied.

"Go sit under one of the canopies, or at one of the picnic tables. Sit and calm yourself down." Irka gently pushed her son in that direction. "There are a few trash cans nearby—if you feel yourself needing to use one, do so. Don't barf all over yourself, or others please."

Space travel was difficult on the young—it could well make them feel, or get, sick. Her three, younger children only had experience in space travel when they had been sent off to their educations; all three had already been enrolled in, and graduated from, Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery, The Dark University, and the School of Dark Arts. They were well on their way to becoming what their father was; at the moment, each of her children were on break from their educational years.

She had always said that, although it was good to keep a child on schedule with their educations, it wasn't a very good idea to have them doing the hop-around routine in becoming enrolled in one school after just getting through with the graduation of another—her husband agreed with her on this, which was why Baruk, Kaasa, and Sudir were taking a break from going to school. Her and her husband's children had been allowed to have a fifty-year vacation from school after graduating from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, and then another fifty-year vacation after graduating from The Dark University; a hundred year vacation had been allowed to happened between their graduation from The Dark University and their being enrolled in the School of Dark Arts. Her in-laws, Duru, and his wife, Cyla, had done the same thing as they in letting their children have breaks between attending the educational facilities that they had picked for their young ones to attend. None of them wanted their children to grow up too fast and, from what she could tell, all of the little ones were on schedule.

Baruk and Kaasa, two of her current young children, and Sudir's brother and sister, and Gaahjah, Uevaa, and Selik, her brothers and sister-in-law, and Sudir's uncles and aunt, were all in the clearing that she was sending her youngest son to; near them were Trobrencus's and his wife's children. Bohir was play-fighting Phaggo while Fleebe was walking over to where Kaasa and Uevaa were. Soon after sending Sudir over to where they were, she noticed that the children were forming themselves according to gender—the boys went off to one side of the clearing while the girls either huddled up near the clearing's center or near to where the waterline was.

Her in-laws were standing nearby; after seeing that Sudir was heading to where she had sent him, and after seeing that her other children were well, she went towards them. Soon after getting within good eye-shot of them, she noticed that Cyla was constantly looking over her shoulder—she was keeping a good eye on the kids, which she thought was a better than fine idea. There was a forest nearby, and it could well contain a predator of some sort—none of the children knew how to hunt, or about how to fend off a predator. While Baruk, Kaasa, Sudir, Gaajah, Uevaa, and Selik all knew how to use their powers they didn't know how to take care of themselves, much less fend off an animal that meant them harm; along with their powers, they also knew well on how to use certain spells, charms, and curses—they had been taught well, but that didn't mean that they were fine to be left alone in an area that could be hiding something that could hurt them. The children were still innocent, and they still looked up to their elders—their parents—for guidance, support, and love. As far as she knew, Bohir and Fleebe were the same way.

"How'd yours do on the trip here?" Irka asked after making her presence known to her in-laws.

"Selik got right ill on the way here; Uevaa got sick after we landed and so did Gaajah." her father-in-law replied. "We're keeping an eye on them. How'd yours do?"

"Baruk and Kaasa did well until we landed; Kaasa could barely walk out of her chamber. Sudir, poor thing... he's looking about ready to curl outward." Irka replied. When TrobrencusVile, and his wife, Bahne, walked up, she turned to them. "How'd your kids do?"

"Lil' travel sickness, nothing to worry over." TrobrencusVile replied.

"Syamsin got right ill, so did Impub and Varaxcan." Bahne said after elbowing her husband in the stomach. "Bohir and Fleebe did well."

"And the Ubalki's?" Irka asked.

"They were here long before us—looked to be doing well." TrobrencusVile replied. "Except for the younger ones, everyone was up and walking around."

"Qhuakiz and Defe?" Irka asked.

"I have no idea. I just know that I saw two right young kids lying down in the grass next to an older kid, who was seated at one of the picnic tables." TrobrencusVile said. "Seems to be a good area for them to be in. Peaceful."

"Good place for them to run around and play in while we do our thing in getting situating in the area." DuruVile said.

The children had done a quick changing of their groups after Sudir appeared in the clearing; the boy-children had made the decision to split their group up—the older, stronger boys were in one group while the younger, smaller, weaker boys were in another. The group that consisted of the girl children had remained the same. Sudir and Selik stood side by side; from her distance, they looked very green with sickness. SyamsinVile Palus, who was the grandson of Trobrencus and Bahne, and Defe and Qhuakiz Ubalki looked the worse of the ones who were sick in the clearing. She looked at the ill children for a few minutes before turning her attention back to her in-laws and Trobrencus and Bahne.

Though sounding reluctant to do so, Tazir had let them join in on two conditions—they were to stay out of the way and they were to not create havoc, or try to traumatize anyone that they found. As soon as the word had come in that they were allowed to become involved in the searching, they had started packing; the men had done the best that they could in keeping order with their respective families, in getting a few suitcases packed up, and in getting their ships ready for use. The children were still a little confused; they had done all that they could think of to make them comfortable on the way to Earth and they had also told them as much as they could about Angel and her sons.

Baruk's memory of Bile and Lhaklar was very good—there had been a sort of competition thing going on between he and Bile when they had been kids; if Bile did something extraordinary, Baruk had to show him up by doing something better than he or vice versa. After Gaajah had gotten older he had joined in on the competition and foeship that the two had going on between themselves. Baruk had been particularly hard on Lhaklar, Irka remembered; he had jumped on the youngster several times in an attempt to play-fight him, which had scared the boy something awful. Gaajah and Baruk had once ganged up on him in an attempt to get him to play-fight with them; Lhaklar, in response, had yelled, and then cried, for his mother—nine times out of ten, it hadn't been Angel who had come in to "rescue" him. Bile had done the honors of rushing in to chase the two off. Irka hoped that Baruk and Gaajah wouldn't cause any trouble; they surely didn't need any.

"Baruk sure has his daddy in him," Cyla said after taking note of Baruk's current activity. Baruk had charged out of his group; after racing over to Gaajah, he picked him up then started trying to "strangle-wrestle" him. "Big and strong!"

"Gaajah looks surefooted over there," Irka said after seeing that Gaajah had managed to slip out from her son's grasp. The boy slid to the side after her son went to grab him again; after turning to face Baruk, he charged. A mock-fight between the two of them started afterwards. "Very loose and limber."

"Good genes in that lot," KurukVile said as he walked up. "Fine bunch of youngsters over there."

"Now just need Bile and Lhaklar in that lot for it to be complete." Bahne said. "Where is Tazir, by the way?"

When the men decided to go off to the river's other side, she felt a trifle bit nervous—though powerful in her own right, and though she knew well on how to defend and protect herself, she worried over what would happen if something came up and she wasn't able to protect both herself and the children. As if to put her mind a little at ease, she found that it wasn't just her who was being left over on the island—Cyla stayed with her and the children. The island was a bit cramped with there being three, large ships on it; there were a pair of logs nearby, both she and her mother-in-law went to them, then sat and watched as the children went by their own in either rough-housing or speaking among themselves.

Girls, the two knew, were different then boys; while boys wrestled, and flexed their muscles by play-fighting one another, girls had more dignified—lady-like—ways in conducting themselves. She hadn't had a chance to experience having more than one child be raised under her roof before; Vile had already been out of the house by the time Dara Dara was born and Dara Dara had been at her final education, and already looking for a place to move into, when Triskull was born.

Her mother-in-law was a little more experienced than her in having more than one child be raised under the same roof; like her, though, this was her first time in having more than one boy of around the same age as the older one be raised under the same roof. With having more than one son living under their roofs, they had found themselves as having a lot to learn and, really, so had their husbands. In a few ways, they had taken advice from Angel on the matter of having more than one son under the same roof; with her having two sons, who were very close in age to one another, she had had the experience in knowing how to raise multiple sons and on what all happened when they were near one another and, of course, on how to react to the many thing that they either caused to happen or did during their running-about hours. Angel had seemed to be a natural mother; she had been there for her children when she was needed to be, she was attentive to them when an issue came up, she disciplined them when she needed to... really, the only thing that the both of them hadn't liked that Angel had done with her mothering of her sons had been the continuous breast feeding—instead of weaning her sons after they reached their toddler years, Angel had continued to let them have her natural milk. Angel had said something about their still needing her milk; _it gives them further aid in their development_ , she had said. _It makes their growing bodies—bones, brain, organs, etc—grow stronger and it also gives them a natural immunity to things that can well harm them_. To the both of them, the cause of her continual breast feeding wasn't based on that; to that day, they still believed that she had been doing it out of clinginess.

"Hope that she put an end to it after taking off with the boys." Irka thought. "For both her health and theirs, I hope that she did wean them."

Irka looked at her thirdborn son; Angel had been fond of saying that the boy should of been named Kuruk Jr. instead of Baruk, which had hit more than a few chords with her. Even though the subject of her son's name had miffed her she now saw the reason behind why that had been said—her son _did_ have an uncanny resemblance to his father.

Like his father's ears, Baruk's elongated ears went only half the length of his shoulders; they were colored differently than his father's though—instead of being gold, then were black; there were a series of red, Tiger-like stripes on both of them. The left side of her son's face, and body, was a blood red color—this color was so dark that one would actually think that that side of his body was black when, in reality, it wasn't—while the other side of his head and body was an imperial red color. He had long, imperial red fingernails on the ends of each of his fingers; his toenails, which he routinely clipped to keep short, were the same color. His eyes really said it all; it was them that said that he was a son of KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit. Both of her thirdborn son's eyes were a fiery red color; the pupils that were in their centers were small and black in color.

Her son was wearing exactly that of what his father had worn when he had been his age—a red shirt, that had a button-down front and lace cuffs on the ends of its long sleeves; a gray striped vest, that had a single pocket on it, was worn over the shirt; the dark red jacket that he was wearing went to just below his buttocks, it was in better than fine condition, considering how old it was; a pair of dark red pants, that's leg-ends were tied off at her son's knees by light red garter ties; and a pair of dark red shoes, that had a red bow on their tops, that was what her son was wearing.

For one who was two thousand, one hundred years old, he had a good-sized body on him—like the body that his father possessed, her son's body was very strong; there was more than enough muscle on her son's body already. Her son was very loud in announcing to anyone who asked that he could bench press nearly a hundred and fifty pounds—while he did a lot of work in the gym, both she and her husband put a limit on him on what he could lift and on what all he could do while working out.

"And my Little Girl," she suppressed the smile that wanted to spread across her face.

Kaasa had been named by her; her husband had wanted to name her Koja or Kaja or something like that—while her husband had gotten the option of having their daughter have a K-name he hadn't been allowed to name her. KaasaVile Cvina Surfeit, who went by plain Kaasa by her friends and family, had been named after a much-loved, and very much missed, aunt of hers—Kaasa Eetabira Etayr, the woman who had married her father's sister, had passed away some five thousand years before her daughter's birth.

Her daughter was a pretty thing. She had long, dark auburn hair, which had more than four cream-colored strands mixed in for good measure and flavor; the eyes, that looked out from her purple-colored, teardrop-shaped face, were a dazzlingly beautiful shade of dark blue. The color of the rest of her matched her face perfectly. Her daughter was wearing a purple dress, which, while long, didn't flow down to touch the ground, and purple slip-on shoes. Her hair, at the moment, was half-braided. Both she and her husband forbade her from using makeup; she wasn't allowed to touch the stuff until she was older. At the moment, she was just two thousand and forty-nine years old.

Sudir was her baby; while she loved all of her children dearly, there was just something about her lastborn that tugged at her heart-strings. Her youngest son was just barely one thousand, nine hundred, and sixty-five years old; quite surprisingly, he had taken more after her in appearance. His skeletal body was a milky-red color; the eyes that looked out from his eye sockets were a dark red color. He had a lean body build; even though he possessed relatively little muscle on his body she was sure that he'd be a big, strong man one day.

His head was the only thing that was bi-colored on him; the left side was red while the right was a golden color. He had no ears but he did have fangs on his upper jaw—which she thought was just plain funny, seeing as both his father and one of his older brothers had fangs on both their upper and lower jaws. Sudir, who had been given the name of SudirVile Sorras Surfeit after being born, but who went by plain Sudir by everyone who knew him, was wearing a button down, long sleeve, black shirt and pants; the dark brown vest that he had over his shirt had a series of ties on it. The black shoes that were on his feet had two, small, gold-colored buckles on them.

Irka sighed; although she and her husband would love to have more children, and were working on having more, she was content at the moment with just her three little ones. She was just turning to engage her mother-in-law in conversation when her father-in-law strode up to her brother-in-law, who was currently busy in doing what she'd call "ground dusting".

"Tazir," DuruVile said after stopping behind his son.

"Hey," TazirVile said without looking up.

"Playing dirt-sift or are you looking for, or finding, something?"

"Both—found a cigarette butt and a few prints earlier. Size nine, if you're wondering." TazirVile replied.

"Been a while... you look well."

"Haven't neglected myself, if that's what you're wondering."

"That's good." DuruVile said. He waited a few seconds before speaking again. "Seen anything of Bile these past few days, or found anything?"

"First two days after Bile was seen, no; just yesterday, we started seeing boot-prints... and joint ends." TazirVile replied. "Someone's been coming here to light up."

"How many joint-ends have you found?" DuruVile asked. Though not one to indulge in conversation on drugs, such as that of what was typically put in joints, he found himself unable to not conversate on the subject—this was really the first, decent conversation that he had had with his son in a long time.

"As of an hour ago, two. What I found a few minutes ago brought that number up to three." TazirVile said. He was about to say something else when something dropped from the sifter that he was using. He was careful in taking the butt-end of a black cigarette out from the bucket that was in front of him; even though the cigarette had been smoked to near-capacity, he was able to see the white line that had formerly been in front of the cigarette's cellulose acetate, or filter. "And this would be my second cigarette-butt discovery of the day."

"Think there's any DNA on it?" DuruVile asked as he bent down. He looked at the cigarette butt for a few seconds before standing to his full height again.

"Hopefully there is—the gloves that I'm wearing should prevent any contamination on my part from happening with what all I find." TazirVile said. He placed the cigarette butt in a plastic bag then stood up. "It seems that Bile's the one leaving the joint-ends. Earlier today, after having one of the ends tested, the results came back as saying that he was the one who smoked it—we found his DNA on it."

"Like father, like son." DuruVile chuckled lightly.

"There was very little of the contents left over—had what was in the paper-end tested as well. He was smoking the mid-grade stuff. Not enough to send a grown man falling back but enough to make one get to feeling a bit loopy." TazirVile said.

"You sure you saw Bile four days ago?"

"Yes—I, along with my mother, Amadh, Efagti, Eshal, and Cheshire saw him." TazirVile replied. "There's no doubt on who we saw—if you want to see the results of the test that was done on his jacket, follow me. The results came back as saying that it had been worn by Bile."

"Where's his jacket? Have you tried using it to draw him out of wherever he's hiding?"

"Don't have it anymore—Amadh was watching that jacket like crazy yesterday... he hung it on a branch of a nearby bush then just sat and watched it for hours." TazirVile said.

"And..."

"Nature called—when he went off to use the bathroom, Bile took advantage. The jacket was gone when he came back."

His camp was located about five miles away from the river's shore; with no developments taking place near camp he had decided to conduct a small scouring of the dirt that was about a quarter of a mile away. A wire sifter, a garden shovel, a bucket, a pair of latex gloves, and a few ziplock baggies had been retrieved from his ship's cargo area then he had gone off to do as he wanted to do.

As he had said, nothing really eventful had happened since the sighting of Bile occurred. His staff had been briefed on the situation, his ship had been fueled, he and Eshal had done a packing session on essentials that they would either need or want to have during a lengthy stay, then they had gone sailing through space. He had his excitement to thank for their swift arrival to the planet; he had been so excited over finally finding his wife and sons... there had been no option of driving through space at a normal speed, really. Due to his use of a small-range teleportation technique, and speeding his ship along at over sixty thousand miles an hour, he had managed to make the trip, which would of taken him five or six days to complete, be a few-hour one. The first day had consisted of his staff clearing the area of his chosen camp; he and Eshal had taken a few strolls around, just to get their bearings, and to speak on where she could and couldn't go. His mother and stepfather had, for the most part, remained near camp; not once had they left to explore the area. Efagti and Amadh had been the only ones of his mother and stepfather's children to do a bit of exploring. Up to two days ago, none of them had put much concern in on looking for Bile, or for any of the other boys, or his wife, for that matter.

He was just starting back to his camp when he heard the noise of a ship descending from the heavens; when he looked up, he saw that his grandfather's ship, the Urumbis-12, was hovering over the presently very over-crowded Expedition Island. He sighed after seeing how badly crowded the island was—before anyone of them had started off on their voyage to the planet he had put out a memo saying that the islands that were located in the middle of the Green River, near to where the town of Green River was, were off-limits to spacecraft. He wanted some areas to be left to the animals that lived, or depended, on them; it looked like everyone had either decided to forgo his instruction on leaving the islands be or they had just forgotten what his memo had said.

"Probably a bit of both." he thought as he resumed his trek to his ship and camp.

Even though they hadn't seen Bile any in the four days that they had been here they knew that he was returning to the area. The jacket being found as missing from its branch, for one, and the cigarette and joint-ends, for two, and the shoe prints, for three, was what told them they had company; while an animal of some sort could of taken the jacket, they really suspected that it was Bile who had taken it from its stationed branch—though the idea of some human coming up, then seeing the jacket and taking it upon himself, or herself, to make good of the finely made opportunity that had become available they still believed that it had been Bile who had taken the jacket. As Eshal had said that morning at breakfast, maybe Bile was curious about them; Cheshire had made the suggestion that the youngster might be just passing through to some other location while Phaggo had asked if the location that their camp was in was in a territory that Bile had made the decision to claim as his own. Blaiga had also asked if the area that their camp was in wasn't considered as being a territory of Angel's—though all of this could be a possibility, he was more leaning towards Eshal's suggestion of Bile being plain curious about them as to why he was coming back to the area.

This looked to be a very safe place; one could hunt, fish, smoke and drink... in his mind, this looked to be a very appropriate place for one to raise a child in. He had seen a few predators—two bears, and a pack of wolves—but, for the most part, he had seen wild game. Deer, moose, Pronghorn Antelope, and plenty of fish and birds. There were good hiding places here; there were plenty of open areas for one to run to or play in; and there was plenty of food and water to sustain a family, should they decide to live on the land instead of in the relative comfort of a well-built, insulated, and weather-protecting structure.

"Hey!" he said after noticing that the lone Goblin, that was wandering near his ship's airlock hatchway door, was heading back inside. The Goblin stopped on a dime then turned to look at him; with a gesture of his hand, he called for him to come to him.

The ship that was situated five miles from the Green River was a large one—he called it the KiSku; it could house up to a hundred people, it had a storing capacity of around a hundred thousand pounds, and it could reach a speed of a hundred and twenty-five thousand miles. Like the name suggested, it was shaped like a kite—that was stood up on end. It was gold and black in color and it had an alien skull in the center of its front side—due to his being the one to get the decor added to his ship's front, the skull was in his exact likeness; the only thing that was different between his actual skull and the one that was painted on his ship's front was the forked tongue, which was lolling from the decor's open mouth.

The inside of his ship had purple carpeting in it; the walls, and ceiling, were a light brown color. Due to wanting to ensure that his ship was his, and that he was a frequent user of it, he had instructed for a few pieces from his bat-trophy collection be placed on the walls. The wings of each of the bats that were on the ship's various walls had been pinned to a piece of wood; almost all of their mouths were open. While these bats were of species that he had hunted in the past some didn't resemble that of what they had once been; some were normal in color, while others had been painted either gold or silver.

"Sir?" the Goblin, who was one of the thirty that he had asked to attend this trip, said after reaching him.

"Take this inside, will you? Have it tested right away." he said as he gave the stored cigarette butt to the Goblin.

The Goblin said that he would, then bowed, then turned and went into the ship; with that matter squared away, he turned to address his father on the situation that was going on on the nearby island.

"You need to move your ship." he said. "All on this side of the river... leave the islands ship-free."

"We only landed there to unload the kids," DuruVile said. "All of the kids are on the island."

"They'll be safe there—only seen one bear since my tenure here, and that was three days ago." TazirVile said. "Mother has hers over there as well; she says that it's a good nesting area. Birds must agree with her—there are bird nests galore on that island."

"Bet she's happy about that... stay over on the island looking after the kids, and the birds." DuruVile rolled his eyes; seeing his ex-wife, and her family, was the last thing he wanted to do that day.

"At the moment, she's over here with us." TazirVile said. The evil glint that was in his large, oval, silver-shiny eyes said it all for Duru—Ashaklar's presence had only been spoken of to get him in a bind.

"I'll move my ship now," DuruVile said, then teleported. A few minutes later, TazirVile saw that he was telling Kuruk, Trobrencus, and his newly arrived grandfather that they needed to move their ships to the river's right side. After seeing this, he went back to where he had found the previously found cigarette-butt.

As her son went back to doing what he had formerly been doing she was looking up in utter dread; the planet had done as one normally would after one of evil backing entered it... with as many evil-doers entering the planet that day, there had been more than one exhibition of planetary reactions occurring. The area around her had shook; the water in the river had either boiled, or grown very very cold; the sky had either darkened or grown red in color; the sun had disappeared for a stretch of five to ten minutes per person who had come in; and, of course, there had been all them nice siren and roaring sounds. Cheshire and Phaggo had been hoping to do a little fishing a few minutes ago—with all that had just happened, they couldn't do that now. There were more than fifty fish floating on the river's surface; all had been cooked alive, thanks to the back-to-back entrances of the Surfeits. She was sure that the chaotic entrances had scared Bile away—if he had been in, or near to the area, he had probably high-tailed it and fast after the first reaction occurred. Their arrival had scared the dickens out of the animals; deer had done more than race around, moose had bellowed and then charged into just about any obstacle that loomed in their path, the Pronghorn Antelope had bolted in either direction, and the birds had just flown off, squawking their fool heads off all the while.

She saw her ex-husband's ship first; to her, it was the ugliest thing that this side of the mid-eastern Universe had ever seen! Shaped like the head of a bat, and with its mouth open to boot; while the teeth were out and in the open, and were just as sharp as those that a real bat possessed, they weren't menacing. The ship's windows were set to look like imitation bat's eyes, only they were a dark red color instead of black; both looked out from the cockpit, which was where her ex was currently all holed up in. Her ex-husband's ship was mostly dark gray and black in color; the teeth were an audacious white color that was, to her, too bright and cheery

Ashaklar shook her head; before Tazir's ship was even landed, and her and her family had taken up residence in it, she had made plans, which mostly revolved around her staying as far away from her ex-husband, and the woman that he called a wife, as she could. By the Gods as her witness, she was going to do her darnedest to stick to them!

"Instead of being a big boy in pulling his pants up, and in drawing his belt in tight around himself, on saying no on their coming over to join in with the search, he said yes." she thought.

The one who her ex-husband favored so highly owned a huge ship—it was so big that two, maybe three, of the ships that her ex-husband owned and used could fit in it. It was a big, metallic, silver thing. A large, silver coil surrounded a skull, which was as white as an eggshell, and which had two black, soulless eyes to it. The mouth on the skull was closed; the teeth, which had been painted a most unappetizing, green and yellow color, were very noticeable on it. Owing to how the ship's teeth had been painted, she had the impression that they were suppose to look "rotten". The canine teeth that were on the ship's skull's top jaw sparkled brilliantly—if she had to make any guesses, a coating or two of gold dust had been applied to them. The ship's airlock hatchway door looked to be situated on the mouth-part of the skull, which was hooked up to the coil by four strong, sturdy, and thick bars, which were a dark gray color.

How anyone could drive in such a ship was beyond her—the coil had to be in the way, and had to make the ability for the driver to see what was going on in front and to the sides of him become near to in-existent. The ship, to her, looked like a death metal trap.

The ship that was owned by her ex-husband's father was quite bland and basic in comparison to the ones that his son and two grandsons owned and used. It had no designs or symbols on it and it was long—if she had to make any guesses, the thing was a half-mile to a mile long. The shape was very pear-like; it was as black and as shiny as could be.

Personally, if anyone had asked her, she liked the basic ships better than the more elaborate ones; they were easier to drive and were much more appealing to the eye of the viewer. Shaam was really the only one of the Surfeit clan that she liked; he was very easy to get along with and he was nice. While he was one to speak of things he did, from time to time, keep certain things to himself; while he had a temper, and was a conqueror, he liked for the ones around him to be peaceful and he also liked for his family to treat one another in the right way. Just before Shaam's ship was landed, six steel arms, which looked very sturdy to her, dropped from its bottom; when the ship was landed, a plume of dust and dirt flew up. After the dust and dirt settled, she was able to see that the steel arms were holding the ship's weight very well; a dark gray ramp was in the process of being rolled out from where the ship's main airlock hatchway doors were when a noise caused her to look behind her.

Before she could even look at the abomination that TrobrencusVile owned and drived—she was able to take in its cane-like appearance, but nothing more—her line of sight pulled her back towards where the island was. The ship that Master Vile, the man who owned the planet that they were on, and the man who was the father of both Angel and Bile, was seen; at first, it looked as if he was going to land on the island then, at the last possible second, it lifted and then headed towards the side of the river that she, her family, and the Surfeit's were on.

"Circus time just started... wonder what it is he wants—Tazir didn't place any calls to him about his becoming involved in the search, and he said nothing on him coming here either." she thought as she started back to where her son's ship, and camp, was.

Kalach Speelin, soon after seeing the progression of ships approach, and then land on, the side of the river that his employer's ship, and camp, was on, ducked into the ship that he was to live in for the next few weeks to months; he walked down the hallway a bit before coming to a stop before a door that was half ajar. He wasted precious time in going into the room that, two days ago, had been turned into a sort of laboratory.

Due to Losal being a bit of a science freak, and having a good dose of smarts when it came to science acts, he had been appointed as being the one to look into everything that was brought in. Zshon Zultoa, though not as smart as Losal was when it came to science, but who loved science as much as Losal did, had been asked earlier that morning to act as Losal's "lab assistant"—a chore that, Kalach both thought and believed, his co-worker was taking a bit too seriously. The cigarette butt had been brought to this very room a few minutes ago; Losal had donned a pair of gloves and then gone to work in seeing if it had a sample of DNA on it soon after having it thrown to him.

He, Losal, Zshon, and Homsi and Eldass had all been in the room when one of the joint ends had been tested; all of them had just about broke out in a rash after Losal's "testing" came back with not only a viable DNA sample but also a sample that matched up with what was on record for Bile. They were all a bit angered over the youngster's act in indulging in smoking; at his age, the act of smoking should not be done. His lungs were not yet fully developed; it'd be another four to five hundred years before he'd be able to smoke anything safely and yet, here he was, smoking at his age.

Homsi was off to the far left of the room; he was currently sitting all nice and content in a fold-out chair. It had been he who had passed it along to their employer that the tested joint end had come back as having a viable DNA sample on it and it had also been he who had passed it along about how the sample belonged to Bile and that Bile was smoking. The man, despite looking all nice and content in his chair, was a bit tense in the face—and there was a perfectly good explanation as to why he looked tense. If Bile was smoking then there was a good possibility that he had done damage to his lungs; there was also a good possibility that he had passed his bad habit off to his younger brother as well. They hoped, for the Young Masters' behalfs, that neither had happened; it'd be a shame if they were tracked down, captured, and then found to have smoke-damaged organs in them.

Mr. Modulavich was their employer's Most Trusted Butler; due to how he had worked his ass off, and to how well he regarded the man that he worked for, he more than deserved to be called so. Before him, it had just been Eldass Zultoa who had owned the title of their employer's most trusted and confided butler; Master Tazir currently had three Goblins that he regarded highly but, in regards to the younger of the three, who none of them really liked, they only considered him as having two. Homsi, when standing, was four foot, six inches tall; his brown skin was well maintained, as was the light gray hair that stuck out from the inside of his ears—unlike most in their species, the man didn't have or even grow hair on his head; his head was as bald as could be. The eyes that looked out from his serious-looking face were large, very expressive, and blue in color. The man was wearing his usual: a brown tuxedo, with a matching tie and vest, which were both worn over a white, long sleeve, button down shirt, and brown shoes. Over the years, he had learned quite a lot about this man; he seemed to have a preference for all film genres, but he also seemed to have a particular fancy for classic-made films. Before Mistress Angel disappeared, she had made a habit out of going to Earth to gain some films that had been made in the 1950's, 1960's, and 1970's; each of them films had been given to Homsi, who had watched and become quite a fan of them. Homsi, before her disappearance occurred, had been a frequent visitor of the old video stores that had once been on Earth; he had a better than decent collection of classic-made films at his place thanks to them frequent visits.

"Thought I'd give the warning—Vile showed up." Kalach said.

"Joy, I can see Young Master Bile running now." Eldass Zultoa both sighed and voiced his annoyance over this development. "From what Amadh said, he not only called the man Dark Dad but also a crook."

"Won't be here for long, probably just here to give a warning or something." Homsi said. "He has to say something on everything, remember."

Eldass Zultoa nodded his head, then went back to the magazine that he looked to be only half interested in; this man, who was much older than everyone else in their employer's service, was the longest employed Goblin in their employer's service. He had come from the first batch of Goblins that Master Tazir had hired, and he was also the only one of that batch to of remained in their employer's service. His trust in their employer was phenomenal; "legend" around their employer's mansion said that he had gone as far as to ask the man if he could employ some of his children, which the man had generously done.

Eldass was said to be an elderly Goblin; in reality, he wasn't "ancient" by any means—he, like the rest of them, was immortal. It was the facial wrinkles that gave one the notion that he was "old"; the hair that he had on his head was full, fluffy, and white in color. The eyes that looked out from the man's face were the same color as the rest of him—light blue. His nose was rather long; the nostrils that were in it were large. He was wearing a plain, dark blue tuxedo and shoes.

Eldass, like Homsi, was also one for the classics; unlike Homsi, who did partake in watching a few films that had sex and cussing in them from time to time, he liked to stir clear of anything that had that material to it. Before Mistress Angel disappeared, he had been one to go to Earth once every two to three months; like with Homsi, he had mostly gone to the planet to check into the available films that were on the shelves of the old video stores. Like Homsi, he hadn't done any film searching for a long time now. While Homsi lived in one of the apartments that were located under their employer's residence Eldass, and his family, lived in a house that was located a distance from where he worked at.

"Anything on the testing yet?" Kalach asked Losal.

"Nothing yet, still testing this thing." Losal Khrelan replied.

Standing at five feet, Losal Khrelan was one of the taller of their employer's staff; even though he was tall, and was quite strong, he preferred to do the bulk of his work inside their employer's mansion instead of out of it. Due to the man's appearance, he didn't look age-appropriate to be out of the house, much less have a job—he was very much a grown man and, even more, he had a wife and two children at home. He had green skin; his face had a few warts on it, and his nose was both thin and long. Even though his hair was scraggly, he managed to comb it to the side every morning before coming in for work; the brown color that he had to his hair was natural.

The pair of goggles, and the blue surgical gloves, that he was wearing looked funny on him; the two items didn't match his outfit at all, and they sure didn't look to match the one that was wearing them. Mr. Khrelan was wearing a plum-colored tuxedo, which had a matching tie, vest, and shoes to it; the shirt that he was wearing under his vest was a very faint purple color. Losal was more free with his movies; even though he liked all types he seemed to have a preference for science fiction and action/adventure. Although Losal was more free with his movies, he was strict on his music choices—it was either the blues, country, or R&B for him; his music interests mostly lie in what had been made in the 1940's and 1950's. Mistress Angel had been fast in directing him towards the records that had been made by a company called Chess Records after learning this; the man was rather fond of Muddy Waters, Little Walter, Little Richard, Howlin' Wolf, and Etta James, to name a few.

"Got something, Zshon?" Eldass asked after noticing that his son was starting to act a bit excited.

"I'll tell you in a minute, papa." Zshon Zultoa, who had a turkey baster, and a vial that was about half full of a blue liquid, replied.

Zshon was the oldest son of Eldass, and he was also one of the three sons that his father had asked their employer to employ; he was as hard-working as could be and he was also very trustworthy and honest.

Even though he stood four foot, nine inches, he was very strong; his drive to protect the ones in his service was very thick—this had been proven more than once during his tenure in staying at KurukVile Surfeit's place. He had plain refused to leave their employer's wife's side and he had been fierce in protecting her when their employer wasn't around to do so himself. Zshon had experience in boxing and wrestling; he had done both when he had been enrolled as a student in Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and then in Staffer's Academy. He had used both during the times where he had been needed to protect Mistress Angel. Zshon was a bit different than Losal when it came to science fiction films—while Losal watched more than that genre Zshon was fully in on watching nothing but science fiction. As far as he knew, the man liked to listen to music that had been made in the 1920's, 1930's, and 1940's.

Zshon looked nothing like his father; he had green skin, and he had more than a few large warts on his face. The nose that was on his face was rather large; his eyes were yellow in color, which was rather unique in their species. Like with Losal, the pair of surgical gloves that he was wearing looked funny on him; his brown tuxedo jacket was hanging on the room's coat rack. He was wearing a white shirt, a brown and white striped tie, and brown pants; the thick band that was around his waist was red. His brown shoes matched his tuxedo well.

All who were present in the room had been hand-picked by their employer's wife to be in her "circle"; like with Master Tazir, Mistress Angel had also had her own group of Most Trusted Goblins. Homsi and Eldass had been fast in becoming one in her circle while Zshon and he had been the next to gain that honor; while it had been a surprise to all of them, Losal had also been picked to be among her circle. They had taken to this privilege well; even though she had been missing for so long, they still honored the right that they had been given.

Zshon, working just as carefully as he could, added a small bit of the vial's blue liquid to one of the squares that were on the testing slide. It took a full minute before he stepped away from the counter that he was working at.

"It'll be a few—"

"Homsi, I need you to be over on Expedition Island." the voice belonging to their employer came through the communicator that was on Homsi's belt loud and clear. "I'd like for you to watch the kids for a few minutes."

"Right away, Master Tazir." Homsi said. He was fast in exiting the room, and then the ship.

"I'll make a memo to tell him what the results say," Zshon said after his co-worker left the room. "It'll be a few more seconds."

"Think you got anything?" Eldass asked his son.

"I got something—the liquid wouldn't of turned blue unless DNA was present."

When he exited the ship, he was fast in both teleporting to where the kids were and in taking up a position where he could see them; most of the kids, he was quick to note, were sitting at the island's picnic tables. There were a couple who were under the canopies and there were one or two who were walking around, taking in their surroundings. The ones who were running around like lunatics, and that were doing their best in disrupting the peaceful antics of the others, were Baruk and Gaajah—this came as no surprise to him; he remembered these two well.

These two children were, what he called, bullies. They did their best to bully the ones around them and they also tried to use their family status of being Surfeits to their advantage; the two had a good reputation with Bile and Lhaklar, that was for sure. When they had been kids, they had liked to join up to bully Lhaklar; they had either run him around in circles for the hell of it, or they had hit or pushed him around, or they had beat him up. One time, when Baruk was "playing" cops and robbers with Gaajah, Bile, and Lhaklar, he had taken a big stick up and then taken it to Lhaklar, who had been tricked into becoming the robber in their "game". Baruk had also been fond of trying to get Lhaklar into trouble and, whenever he saw him sitting under a tree, reading a book, he had taken it upon himself to rush over with a stick; nine times out of ten, Lhaklar would go running into the house with a bloody nose, or with having a cut or two to his cheeks or arms, or with having a series of bruises on him whenever the latter event occurred.

Most of the time, Baruk's parents would hear about the event but not do a thing over disciplining their son over the injuries that he had caused; Master Tazir and Mistress Angel had seen wrong in Baruk's actions and they had also done their best in trying to get his parents to get him under control to, sadly, no avail.

Gaajah, while not as "sturdy" then with his bullying, had still been a bully towards Lhaklar. He remembered a time when the boy had pushed his employer's son into the deep end of the pool—if not for his employer's son being as good of a swimmer as he had been he would of drowned. Lhaklar had been a bit more firm with Gaajah; he had also had a bit more courage to him in tattling on the boy and on getting him into trouble. It was mostly when Gaajah was with Baruk that the bullying escalated and that Lhaklar was out of his element in standing up for himself. Bile had done the best he could back then to both protect his brother and help him out; he'd come between the bullying, or he'd run Baruk and Gaajah off, or he'd do to them what they had just done to his brother.

"Baruk had such an air around himself then—he thought that he was everything that his father was and he also thought very low of anyone who wasn't his size or who carried blood that was less than that of what he carried." he thought as he watched the children.

This air-carrying had caused Baruk to have more than a big head; even though his parents had noticed this they hadn't done anything to stop it or to correct it. While Bile had been one to go around, saying that he could lift this thing or that thing, and while he had done so on some occasions, he hadn't been destructive while doing so; Baruk, whenever he was around Bile, had tried to show him up. He'd pick up and then throw rocks wherever he pleased; he'd pick up and then throw sticks and small to medium-sized logs all over the place; and he'd not think twice about snapping the saplings that were on the property in half. The boy had also had it out for his employer's garden as well; he'd just run in and then tear things up—one time, when he had done this, he had tried to pin the blame on Bile; Master Tazir had been furious over learning that his garden's produce had been torn up and he had demanded that someone step up to accept responsibility and Baruk, the irresponsible bully, had tried to place blame on Bile.

Even though Bile had an air around himself as well at that time he had known better than to go into his father's garden—not once had he entered the garden, and not once had he grabbed and then thrown the growing produce around. Master Tazir had known this, which was why Bile hadn't been the one punished for the garden being destroyed. Bile had shown Baruk and Gaajah up plenty of times; while one or the other had struggled to pick up a log, he had picked it up with ease. While one or the other had struggled to pick up and then throw a rock, he had done so with ease. Along with knowing well to stay out of his father's garden Bile had also known better to not snap the saplings that were on his father's property. Even though he had been one who liked being dirty, playing in the mud, throwing mud balls, or just plain acting boyish, he had still shown considerable respect while Baruk and Gaajah had not.

"Hey!" he yelled after Baruk and Gaajah turned, and then ran towards the group that consisted of the younger boys.

Nothing, he decided right then and there, had changed with the two of them. Right before his eyes, they started bullying the ones that were smaller, younger, and weaker than they. Before rushing towards the other group, they, and the ones in the mostly older boy-consisting group, had either been pushing and shoving one another around, or grabbing and then throwing or snapping sticks. Baruk and Gaajah had obviously taken it upon themselves to be the "leaders" of their group; it also looked like they had taken it upon themselves to "evict" the "not-worthy" boys from the area.

Baruk pushed Qhuakiz Ubalki, who was no more than a toddler, over after reaching him; Gaajah pushed ImpubVile Surfeit, who was both seven hundred and thirty-four years old and the youngest son of TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, once or twice before going over to "bully" Sudir, who looked a bit unwell to him. He was in the process of yelling for the two of them to head back to their own group when Baruk rushed at Impub; his face went a degree paler in color as he watched Baruk push, shove, slap, punch, and then pinch the younger boy.

"Hey! Hey, stop that! Baru—" he left his command unfinished; after seeing Baruk grab and then slam Impub to the ground, and then rush over and start terrorizing Qhuakiz, he decided to go over to put an end to what was going on. He had only just started heading towards the two bullies when Gaajah started "attacking" Sudir, who had just started getting sick, and when Baruk's hand settled over the back of Qhuakiz's pants. He was breaking out in a full-out run when the glowing, yellow-green eyes, that were looking out from a nearby bush, squinted in anger.


	16. Chapter 16

As he looked at what was going on in front of him he couldn't help but feel angry; a Goblin, who stood around four foot, six inches, and who had brown skin, and light gray hair sticking out from the inside of both of his ears, was trying to get the bully under control—from what he was able to see, he was getting no where and fast. The man had since taken his jacket off; the boy that he was trying to protect, who looked no more than three hundred or so years old, was crying and clinging to him in desperation to be saved from the one who wished to do him harm. Even though the man was yelling for the one who was attacking the one boy who was getting sick to back off he was mostly concerning himself with the one who wanted the toddler; the man was stomping his feet, yelling, slapping the hand that was free to his thigh, and flinging his jacket all over the place to no avail—the bully wasn't getting the point of what he wanted him to do.

Like he had said to that Amadh Ubalki-guy a few days ago, he was big but he was no oaf; he knew very well who the bully was. While there were a few in the island's picnicking area that he didn't know he knew very well who the bully of the toddler, and the one who was attacking the one who was getting sick, was. It looked like neither had changed over the years.

"Amadh Ubalki... definitely a name that I've not heard of in a while." he thought as a sick, greedy smile spread across his face.

While he didn't know what had been going through the guy's head he sure knew what had been going through his—no one came up on him from behind! No one tried to play the capture and then remove from Ma and the Bros routine on him. Instead of just turning to see what the guy wanted, he reacted by turning and then swinging at him—he had been damn proud of himself with giving the guy that little lesson; having to body slam the older guy, who he remembered, but couldn't yet place a name to, had shocked him though. He hadn't expected for him to rush in on him like that. Having the man who had acted as his paternal figure since his baby years attack him with his powers was even more of a shock—pain, from being struck by his energy strand, and from his attacking him, and shock from him having to nerve to attack him had been felt right after he had been attacked by the guy. Instead of just sitting around, moping and wondering what was going on, he had gotten out of the area and fast. A feeling of vulnerability had fallen over him; he had felt hurt over being attacked, and then vulnerable, and then he had gotten out of there.

His deer he had saved; while initially wanting to leave it behind he had just found himself unable to do so—why leave it behind? He had put over an hour in on looking for something to hunt; there was no way in hell that he had wanted to return home without having something on him that the family could use for the next few days. The deer had been in the apartment's cellar; it had been safe and, better yet, so had he. He had intended to go down to tend it after getting home; the intended plan, after getting home, hadn't been allowed to happen—his mama had gotten home early and she had caught the trace-sniff of something bothering him and she had wanted to know what it was.

His mama, who he loved oh so much, had a better than good nose on her; if she wanted to, she could smell trouble happening from a mile away... two miles even! She knew when something was up with either him or one of his brothers; if something was troubling them, or if they had done something that they shouldn't of done, or if something had happened to them, she'd know of it soon after looking at them. No one could keep a good, or halfway decent, secret from her.

After being asked what was wrong with him, he hadn't beat around the bush or put much thought in on thinking up a ruse that would get her from his back. He had said that he had come across a bear; his mama had given him that _oh really Bile?_ look then she had said _You've been trained so efficiently_ — _you're so big and strong for one your age_ — _and you got scared off by a bear?_ She had then asked if that was really it on what was bothering him; again, instead of dilly-dallying along, he had changed his story a bit. _It wasn't any ol' ordinary bear, maaamaaa_ — _it was this big, biiiiiig bear. Bigger than a car stood end up... three times as big as me, and it was a mama bear too. She had two cubs with her; you know how them mama bears are, ma. They're protective of them cubs. They're downright mean when they have their cubs around._

That had bought him some time for, oh, about a day. The rest of his deer had been sorted out—the meat harvested, the rest of the organs collected, the pelt squared away, and the horns examined and then placed in his family's underground storage—then he had gone on his way. He had wondered the reason for his father's being on Earth and he had wondered what the man had done over the years since he and his siblings had been relocated to Earth and he had also wondered what it was that Amadh had said that they were looking for—due to his cutting the man off he hadn't been able to hear what it was that they were looking for. He had wondered this for hours before finally going to bed; he had slept good, as always, then he had been given a surprising arousal. His dear mama, who his love for knew or had no definitive words to it, had obviously gotten wind of what had really happened to him; a newspaper from one of the other planets in the Universe had been sent to her, and then read. Instead of sitting, and letting the story sink in, she had come racing up the stairs. A dish towel had been in her hand at the time; she had used it to swat him clean off his cot.

"Ma... what...?" he remembered saying after that initial swat had been felt. Instead of stopping, she had continued with the swatting of the towel and he, instead of lying on his cot, had rolled off and then taken off. His mama had chased him all the way down the apartment's second level's hallway, and then down the stairs, and then into the living room; she had only stopped chasing after him after he had stopped and then turned to look at her. He had dropped to his knees, then had taken her hands in his own, then had pled insanity; everything of what had happened had been told— _Big, Strong, Biley had gotten scared yesterday_ , he had said. _I saw some people that I've not seen in a long time, then I was attacked by one of them. I ran off after being attacked, I'm sorry for not telling you but I was scared and confused... and I'm still confused over what happened. Please, maaamaaa, believe me; I didn't mean for what happened yesterday to happen. I'm sorry!_

His ma, instead of going back to swatting him with the towel, or yelling at him, had simply nodded her head; any and all anger felt towards him had been dropped. She had listened to him, then she had nodded her head, then she had said for him to get up from the floor. She had also said for him to not ever—a lot of emphasis had been put on the 'ever'—allow for himself to be seen by them again, and to be wary of the area around him whenever he ventured out of the shields to hunt. He had said okay then he had gone upstairs to unwind—and to get dressed, of course.

Ma worried about him sometimes, the same as his brothers did; she worried that he'd go off and do something that was stupid—like find a bear and then wrestle it and then get seriously, if not mortally, injured by it; or rough-house with the wrong human; or hunt during weather that wasn't favoring towards such a hobby; or break a leg, or worse, his back, whenever he was out on the hunt; or be struck by a car when he was walking too close to the roads that were in their resident town. She really shouldn't worry but so much over them things; he'd not ever wrestle a bear, or pick the wrong human to rough-house with, and he would definitely not go out to hunt when the weather was bad. It was almost always a-given that one would get injured during the hunt but he was trying his best to not get but so badly injured whenever he went out to do his favorite outside activity. She did, in a few, small ways, have to worry about his walking to close to the road, though—that was really it on what she had to worry about with him.

He was able to keep some things from his ma; his smoking of the good stuff—the mid-grade weed that he got from his connection in town, for example. His flirting with the local ladies in town was another good example of what he was able to keep from her; the same went with his finding and then following one of the nearby town ladies to their apartment for some fun—he did this once a month. His ma would do more than flip her lid if she found out that he was already engaged in "adult" acts at his age.

His little begging session with his mama hadn't fallen on deaf ears; his brothers had heard the ruckus. They had come out from their rooms to see what was going on; he had dealt with hearing _Biley got in trouble and had to beg his way out of it_ , _Biley got dish toweled again_ , _Biley just loves being whapped by that dish towel_ all that morning, thanks to their seeing what had happened between he and ma. He had only gotten a little bit of peace after leaving the apartment at nine; having his ma whup him with a dish towel was one thing, having to beg and plead and then explain himself out of something that he had done was embarrassing... having his brothers tease him about that felt embarrassment had been torturing. He had taken off at nine, had gotten to his favorite hunting grounds by ten, then had settled in for just watching what was going on in the camp that was in the area.

For the last three days, he had just gone to see what was going on in the camp. Seeing faces that he hadn't seen in a long time, hearing names, some that had clicked home for him while others hadn't, and, of course, waiting for the moment to go retrieve his jacket.

"Instead of grabbing my jacket before running off I left it behind... ma was more than mad after learning about that." he thought as he watched the proceedings that were still going on in front of him.

 _You went and lost your jacket_ — _which you didn't even need to have with you,_ she had yelled at him while whapping him with the dish towel; _that cost $25, Bile! You went and lost $25 that we could use—that your baby brother could use! That could of been put in our savings for your brother's glasses!_ Ouchie wawa; his jacket had slipped him by. He hadn't even bothered with worrying over it; he had just left it behind. He had explained that, in his panic over being attacked by his father, he had plumb forgot about it; in his fear, he had had a lapse of memory and had forgotten all about the item that, yes, he should not of had on his person.

When the chance came upon him to reclaim what he had left behind was noticed he had taken it; he had been relieved after taking his jacket from the branch that it had been hung on—no more Bile wasted $25, no more Bile gave away money that his baby brother could use would be heard. He had gone home with the jacket, and with $25, which he had carefully snatched from an unsuspecting woman's purse; while the jacket was put in the upstairs closet the money had been given to his mother. He had said that he was sorry for what he had done the day before after giving the money over then he had taken a seat at the table. He had waited for the next lecture... he had gotten himself ready for another embarrassing moment that his brothers would hear—at the time, all three had been in the next room over, either playing a video game or reading a magazine. Instead of having one or the other happen, his mother had pocketed the money; she had come over and then given him a hug soon after the money was placed in her pocket. She had apologized for her action in letting her concern over him get the better of her, and for using a dish towel on him, then she had gone back to the stove; a batch of strawberry cupcakes had just been frosted, she had given him one of them then she had said for him to forget all about what had happened the day before.

His ma was a better than grand cook; like everything else, she was just one of them women who were great at doing just about anything. He was grateful to have such a woman as she as his ma; his love for her had grown to such high levels on that day that he hadn't been able to stop himself from both getting up and then giving her a hug. He had also done the thing that he and his brothers did when they wanted comfort—his head had been nuzzled against her own; the ritual had started slow, as usual, then it had gotten faster after she returned the gesture. The rule with this gesture of his and his brothers' went something like this: if ma reciprocated the gesture, it was okay to do it... if she didn't, that meant for you to go some other place. You could nuzzle her a little harder if she reciprocated; if she didn't reciprocate the nuzzling, and you continued nuzzling her, she'd snap at you, then push you back, then tell you to "scram". After a few seconds of comfort-giving was done, he had backed off and then returned to the table. He had started in on his cupcake soon after.

"Go on!" the Goblin was yelling at the bully who wanted to get at the toddler. "Go on, Baruk! Get! Scram! Leave Qhuakiz alone! He is too young and little for you to play with. Go on n... hey!"

The bully—Baruk—was just now turning on the Goblin; he ran over then knocked the Goblin over. His follow-up action was what he had expected it to be—he kicked the man in the side a few times before running off.

He growled deeply after seeing this; here was an adult trying to get a mean ass kid to behave. Was that kid being respectful, or listening to what said adult was saying? Eh, no. Baruk saw it as a game—here's the little guys, the vulnerable guys, I'll pick on them and leave the big, strong guys who are my age alone. Bile lunged forward twice; like with the previous times that he had done this, he was pulled back. He hadn't done this action on his own; while his anger sometimes got the better of him—sometimes robbed him of his good senses—and while he was angry now, he hadn't been the one to initiate the move in staying behind the bush. It had been his brother, Lhaklar, who had grabbed and then pulled him back.

His brother was knelt down by him; his hand was around his wrist, he was doing what he could to keep him behind the bush that they were hiding behind. Lhaklar had decided to follow him that morning; he had used the shadows well then, after seeing where he was going, and what he was doing, he had come running out to put an end to his three-day run activity. Instead of clambering up, and then heading home with his tail firmly tucked between his legs, he had stayed where he was.

While he loved his brother, there were a few things that he had to him that he despised. Lhaklar was smart; Lhaklar was powerful; and Lhaklar thought that he was his damn daddy—while he was okay with the former two things he hated the final one. Lhaklar was his brother... his brother who was a hundred years younger than he... his little brother for crying out loud! He wasn't his daddy and he shouldn't be acting like his daddy. Lhaklar was strong as well; maybe not as strong as he was but strong in his own right. Right after discovering his little secret he had started squealing; he had started singing about telling ma about all that he had been "doing" for the last three days. Instead of hunkering down—playing chicken—he had come back with _oh yeah, what do you think she's going to say after hearing that you was here as well?_ which had shut him up.

He and Lhaklar sometimes teamed up to cause "chaos" and, sometimes, they got into trouble together—this act of theirs was a bit strange, considering how his brother liked to stay on their mother's good side, and to have that "model citizen" image. Instead of taking refuge in a tree to look at the camp, and its many people, he and his brother had crouched behind the stalks of a nearby field; while looking at the camp, and its people, they had remembered things that they hadn't thought of, or remembered, in years. They had only moved over to the island after the ships had started coming in; the lone-remaining joint that he had on his person had been taken out and then halfway smoked right after they had taken up position behind one of the island's bushes. Lhaklar had just taken one of his Black Devils cigarettes out from his case when the Goblin was seen—while he liked smoking mid-grade pot, Lhaklar liked smoking the imports that he got from his connection; his smokes were said to come from the Netherlands. Just before moving over to the island, they had passed smokes between one another; he had smoked one of his brother's cigarettes and his brother had smoked one of the two joints that he had had on his person.

Like he, Lhaklar would be in a lot of trouble if ma found out about his smoking habit... and about his also fooling with the ladies in the nearby towns. Lhaklar had a silver case that he always carried on him—he had saved up for it through his dancing... which was another thing that their mother would be mortified with if she ever found out about it. From what he had been told, the case had cost him a little under $100; he kept six cigarettes in it at a time. Sometimes, he shared them and, sometimes, he didn't.

He wasn't too keen on the taste of his brother's cigarettes; there was too much flavor to them... while the Indian taste was good there were just too much of it to the cigarette. Hazaar liked them though. Lazeer always made a face when he smoked; instead of bucking up, then giving what he had been given to smoke back, he continued smoking—he guessed that he made his strange faces to plain annoy or throw them off.

"Cool it, Bile!" Lhaklar whispered in his ear. "Mom would be furious if you got into any brawls, or got caught."

"He's beating up an adult!" Bile whispered back.

"He'll have control of the situation soon." Lhaklar said, he then pointed, "See? He's going for his belt. He'll scare the kid off now."

While Bile and his brother were harking back and forth about what was going on in the island's picnicking area, Homsi was being nearly overwhelmed with shock—while the act of the kid bullying one who was much younger, smaller, and weaker than he wasn't so much of a surprise to him he couldn't believe that he hadn't run off or listened to him after he had come up to put an end to the bullying.

He had tried yelling at the kid, telling him to run off and play with the ones who were more his age and size; then he had started swinging his hand, and stomping him feet, in an attempt to scare him off; then he had gotten the idea of taking his jacket off and then swinging it at the young man—while the kid had stopped being interested in Qhuakiz he had gained an interest in him. Qhuakiz was terrified; his arms were tightly wrapped around his middle, and he was crying into the back of his shirt and vest. While the idea of having the boy run off to where his older siblings were had crossed his mind he hadn't turned to tell him to do so—with the way Baruk was, there was a good possibility that he might charge at the youngster and then really hurt him.

He saw pure play on Baruk's face; the kid was getting a real kick out of scaring Qhuakiz half to death and he was also having a "blast" in assaulting him. The boy had already picked up and then thrown him to the side; he had picked himself up and then stationed himself before Qhuakiz three times now... his ribs were giving him grief but they weren't causing him enough pain to back away from protecting the youngster that was under threat. He feared that, if he showed any signs of weakness, Baruk would rush in and then hurt him and then the boy that he was trying to protect.

"If no other thing works then use the thing that holds your pants up to get control of the ones that you've sired." he remembered his father, Kose Modulavich, saying one time after he had confided in him about how Arenzoar was acting one day.

With this thought in mind, he reached to his beltline; the buckle of his belt was undone then his belt was whipped free of him. Even though all matter of stuff fell to the ground around him—his communicator; his work and regular day cellular phones; the holister that contained his work-issue pistol in it; his hoverboard; and his holocom—he paid them no mind or gave it any consideration about collecting them; he slashed the belt, which was both brown and made out of genuine rawhide leather, at the bullying youngster, who jumped back soon after hearing the item's tell-tale crack. Baruk stopped, then gave him a good sizing up for a few seconds, before rushing back in; he reacting by swinging the belt again.

Baruk, instead of jumping back, or stopping, ran wide; he yelled in surprise, then gave him a wildly bewildered look—the eyes that stared at him had an innocent look to them for only a second before gaining the same fire that was held in those that were possessed by the one who had sired the boy. Before Baruk could charge at him, and before he could brandish, or swing the belt again, Gaajah ran up; as if Baruk wasn't enough he now had Gaajah to fend off.

Instead of standing around, allowing the two of them the opportunity to sweep in to hurt either he or Qhuakiz, he used the belt; Gaajah, as expected, shouted after the rawhide leather struck his rear. The newcomer to the bullying scene was run off after receiving another blow—instead of taking refuge somewhere, to nurse his wounded pride, and to think over his prior transgressions, the boy ran over to Impub then started roughing him up. Since he was in the process of repositioning Qhuakiz, who had, somehow, become entangled around his legs, he wasn't able to do anything other than yell at the boy; while he worked to get Qhuakiz untangled from him, Baruk ran in. After seeing the boy's charge, he swung the belt up and then out; he struck the kid on the leg—high up on the outer thigh. A meaty thwap was heard, then a cry, then silence. Baruk, soon after voicing his pain over being hit, slid to a stop, then shook his head furiously, then rolled his shoulders; he charged right after getting himself together. Homsi, who had not a chance in the world to get prepared for this charge, saw the sky as he went sailing; he was still sailing through air when he heard Qhuakiz scream out in terror, then cry out in pain.

"You're a servant!" Gaajah exclaimed. He kicked the Goblin in the ribs after he landed on the ground—he kicked him hard enough to make him roll clean over. "You're not suppose to discipline us! Our dad's do that! Our mom's do that! You do not!"

Homsi was quick in dodging the next kick that was given to him; he rolled over to his belt, which had flung from his hand after he had struck the ground, then he grabbed it up and then swung it. Gaajah screamed in pain after it struck him on the back, and then on the arm; he ran off with his hand clamped over his arm after the second blow was given. Homsi thought that he had just sent him packing when, suddenly, and to his extreme horror, the boy turned and then started attacking Impub. Right before his eyes, the older boy grabbed and then threw the boy around, and then punched him twice in the face; he was racing over to put an end to the assault when he remembered that Qhuakiz was all by his lonesome. In quick fashion—though he wanted to help the older of the younger boys, he knew that it was really Qhuakiz who he should be protecting—he turned then went back to where the toddler was; Impub, soon after he turned to go back to Qhuakiz, ran off. He hid behind his sister, who only turned to look at what was going on after finding herself being run into.

Qhuakiz, Homsi was quick to note, had been injured during the momentary cease in protection giving; Baruk had taken advantage of his being away from the younger boy. The boy, like Impub, had been grabbed and then thrown to the ground a few times; it looked like he had been kicked in the stomach and punched in the face as well. With Impub, his self-appointed prey, out of reach to be preyed on, Gaajah turned towards Qhuakiz and he; the boy, who was younger than Baruk, but who Baruk treated more on an equal scale, teamed up with Baruk then ran forward.

The two of them circled the Goblin, who was now standing fully over the toddler; Homsi brandished his belt. He showed it; he flicked it back and forth; he swung it at the boys when they came too close to him and his charge. He had just swung the item—Baruk had just charged in—when it was grabbed from his hand—Baruk, he was quick in noting, had only charged in to distract him. Gaajah had been intending to take the item that he was using to ward them off with and Baruk had taken it upon himself to distract him so he could do so.

Now sans his belt, which Gaajah was holding in a sick sort of fascination, he was in a very vulnerable situation; there was really nothing on him to protect him, and Qhuakiz, with. He had his pocketknife in his pocket, but he didn't want to use it; that was only to use in case of an emergency—although the present situation was a dangerous one, he didn't dare want to use it on one of the kids. He had been told to watch the kids... not to hurt them but to just watch. Qhuakiz reached one of his small hands up; he wrapped it around the waist of his pants, he reacted by reaching down and then patting him on the shoulder. Though the idea of pushing the kid behind him came to his mind he didn't do so—one of the two bullies could sweep in behind him and then cause further pain to the young boy, which he didn't want to happen so, instead of positioning him so that he was behind him, he kept him between his legs.

He had just made this decision when Baruk charged in; he was sent sailing... when he collided with the ground, he coughed up blood. He had not a snowball's chance in hell to get up—Baruk and Gaajah raced in, then started assaulting him.

Gaajah grabbed him by his arms; he yanked him up then held him steady as Baruk walked forward. He had _his_ belt in _his_ hands. He was _brandishing_ it at him. Qhuakiz screamed right when he saw what was about to happen; the scream got Baruk's attention quickly. Baruk turned, then went towards him. The belt was swung menacingly the entire time that he was progressing towards the younger boy. He only got but so close before finding himself being flattened to his back.

"You like beating up on ones shorter and younger than yourself?" Homsi and Gaajah looked to the right. Their jaws were instantly dropped—there stood Bile, looking both furious and serious, and, standing directly behind him, was another youngster. This one looked very much like a teenage version of Lhaklar. "Why don't you two blokes pick on someone your own size and strength and leave the kids be?"

"I see one right in front of me." Baruk said as he got to his feet. He bolted for Bile, who coiled back then sprang forward like a Tiger.

While utter chaos happened on the island, KurukVile was looking at the ones that were exiting the recently arrived ship. He hadn't expected for his oldest son to show up; he had expected for Vile to stay on Gamma Vile, and to continue being stubborn. Instead of doing that, he was here; even though he hadn't seen his son in a right long stretch of years, he looked very much the same. Though he couldn't tell if his oldest son's general attitude was the same or not he had a feeling that it was. Really, the only thing that was different was the proud sense that he was carrying himself in—he guessed that this stemmed from the child that he was holding.

He had seen Thrax, his great-grandson, only three times in the youngster's young life—once when he had been born, then on his five hundredth birthday, and then again on his six hundredth birthday. Rita, despite having a son, looked non-different, same for Lord Zedd, who was the father of the child. Rito looked and acted the same, much to his great chagrin.

Vile, as he and his wife called the boy, had started to land his ship on Expedition Island; after seeing that everyone was moving their ship to the river's right side, he had changed his decision. Instead of landing on the island, he had landed about fifty yards from the spot that Trobrencus had picked for his stationed camping area. His ship—the SkullTerra—was still the same; it was shaped like a gigantic skull, with its mouth open in a hideous scream. There were large fangs on both sets of teeth in the skull's mouth; a split tongue, that was a beet red color, was inside the skull's mouth—this little adornment was actually a working part of the ship; it was its ramp. The eyes of the skull were really the ship's windows; they were a dark red color and looked out from the cockpit. SkullTerra had been made in his son's image; the ship even had his elongated ears—they even had the same type of earrings that he wore in his ears.

Thrax, instead of exiting the ship under his own power, had been carried out; from what he could see, the young boy's grandfather looked to be preventing his daughter and son-in-law from taking the child—as if to validate this, Vile had said no on Rita taking her son over to where the other children were. Little Thrax, who was no more than nine hundred and one years old, looked just as sick as could be; he couldn't help but feel pity for the boy.

"Well shake my tail and call me Hairy, what is it that brings my son and his family to this fine planet?" KurukVile said after his son was in speaking distance.

"Hi granddad," Rita said. She gave a sweet, innocent smile then looked over at her son, who groaned sickly.

"Hello Rita," KurukVile said. "Rito, you look well."

"Feel well," Rito replied.

"Lord Zedd, you and my granddaughter have one fine looking child there. Looks very healthy." KurukVile said.

"Thrax is a son I am proud to have made." Lord Zedd said. He then turned to his wife. "Of course, I have my wife here, and her lovely looks, and genes, to thank for him. A father is only half."

"Have you found anything on this Ghost Search of yours?" Master Vile asked.

KurukVile looked at his oldest grandchild; Rita was sixteen thousand, one hundred, and fifty-two years old but she definitely didn't look it. She had an air of youth around herself—this air was so prominent that she even had it in her step. She had a pretty, lightly tanned face, that was currently covered in heavy makeup. Her lips had a coating of purple lipstick on them; purple eye-shadow was on her eyelids, and black eyeliner was around her eyes; there was mascara on her eyelashes.

Her hair was a shiny, light gray color; it was held up by orange ribbons in two twin cones—with her hair set in this fashion, she looked to have horns. She was wearing a brown dress, that had gold embroidery around the lower arms and skirt; the flexible, armor-like, Madonna cone-bra that she wore over her top-half was a bronze color. A dark brown neck-frill, that had light gold, triangular-shaped designs, and blue feathers, on it, was attached to the bra-piece. Rita's hair was being held out of her face by a black band that had gold swirl-like designs on it; a ruby was in the middle of this band. Running down from the band was a light gray, braided outer face adornment. She had long, purple-colored fingernails; the eyes that looked out from her face were brown. She had inherited the shape of her nose from her father; the rest of her had come from her mother, Scordida Vener.

Bahne Brotzol had once made the mistake in asking Irka, his beloved wife, if Rito was her son and, in truth, it was an honest mistake and a good observation—Rito _did_ look quite a lot like her. Unlike his wife, who was very feminine in build, Rito was very masculine. He had a full skeletal body; not an once of flesh was on him. He had inherited his bi-colored body from his father; the right side of his body, from head to foot, was white while his other half was camouflaged. He had been born with a helmet on his head, which was also bi-colored. His teeth were slightly rotten. He had no eyes. He had a belt around his waist; small skulls were hanging from it. The bands that he had around his wrists were green. While Rito was strong he was also dumb; this was his downfall for him, sadly. Although he loved his grandson with all of his heart he did wish that wasn't so stupid. This grandson of his was five thousand, one hundred, and two years old.

"The wreck of a boy of mine did just about all that he could to get rid of this fine man," he thought after turning to look at Lord Zedd, who was currently being rebuffed by his father-in-law, who was staying true to his claim in holding Thrax.

As much as the issue caused him to feel anger, he had to think it—Vile did not see eye-to-eye with his son-in-law and Lord Zedd, honestly, didn't see eye-to-eye with him either. The two seemed to hate one another with a passion. Vile had once gone as far as to pin a lie on his daughter... in saying that she had been seen as flirting with another man. He had also said that he had actually seen her as being engaged in naughty deeds with the fabled man in question. Lord Zedd had never believed such malarkey; the man loved his wife phenomenally—he had gone so far as to get in a physical brawl with Vile, and then to shout it out to the masses of a shopping district, to prove this. Lord Zedd was obnoxious at times, yes, but he meant good by the ones he loved.

The man had a very masculine, muscular body on him; he wore not a shred of clothing on himself. The chrome that was on his body was as shiny as could be; a blue liquid would periodically be pumped through the tubing that ran from his chest on down to his arms and legs. The chrome that he wore on his face had a bar on it that was adorned with a Z; the man had a chrome staff in his hand that had a similar Z on its top. He still found it funny that the man's brain was out and exposed to the elements—he guessed that his grandson-in-law preferred to let his "smarts" hang out in the open.

Vile had only stopped in trying to break the two up after Rita had gotten pregnant; it seemed that the man was very attached to the boy, which was ironic, since he had never allowed for himself to grow any sort of attachments to the children that his secondborn daughter had bore.

"From what I've been told, my brother did find something—you son's DNA was found on a joint end earlier today." KurukVile said.

"Is that so," Master Vile was gentle when he gave his grandson over to Lord Zedd. "Who makes up this stuff? I'm curious, who is that made up the story of the joint end and of Bile's DNA being found on it?"

"That's what we've been told," Irka said after reaching her husband's side. "We're a bit upset over Bile smoking at his age." she looked at her great-grandson for a second, smiled, then turned her attention back to Master Vile. She started relaying the rest of what they had been told. "Tazir's testing some cigarette butts now; Bile took his jacket."

"Oh, how nice—my ghost son ran up then took his jacket." Master Vile laughed.

"Amadh was the one who was watching the jacket—he only left it when the urge to pee came over him. When he came back from using the bathroom, it was gone." Efagti, who was four to five feet away, said.

"Quite possible that it wasn't my "ghost son" who ran off with it then. It was probably another human, or an animal, that claimed it." Master Vile said.

Seeing as the men were engaged in conversation, Irka took Rita and Thrax to the side; she asked if her granddaughter wanted to take her son to Expedition Island, where all of the other children were, then she waited for an answer. She found herself being quite surprised at getting a yes-answer; Rita was much like her father when it came to Thrax—very protective, and very choose-y of the ones that he hung around with.

After the ships were all moved to the river's right side, and then landed, and then after Vile had shown up, she had decided to stick near her husband—just in case something happened, a verbal or physical fight or a battle to the death by use of powers. Her husband's relationship with their oldest son wasn't what it use to be; at one time in the two's life, they had been very close to one another. Sadly, that had changed after Vile went and conquered Gamma Vile, and then the rest of the M-51 Galaxy; an agreement had been reached by the ancestors of the Surfeit family a very long time ago that the galaxy that they were born in would be left alone... the members of the Surfeit family could conquer anything that they chose to but they had to leave the M-51 Galaxy be. A contract had also been written up, and then distributed to each of the newly-mature male members of the family; her son had seen this contract, and had been told to both read and sign it, but he had plain refused to do so. Vile had been disowned after conquering Gamma Vile; while Kuruk had tried to get their son to understand his reason behind the punishment their son had never excepted it. Vile, for the most part, had shunned his father, and her, after the disowning had been removed from him. She did fear, and believe, that the two's once close-knit relationship was to never be rekindled.

Irka looked at her grandson; Thrax would be a very fine man one day. He looked very much like his father; he had a red body, which was completely devoid of muscle, and he had chrome on him. His shoulders, the lower portions of his arms and legs, and some of his face had chrome on it; there were torn, orange ribbons on his horns, which turned down and then had a curve at the tips. His jawbone, though masculine in appearance, resembled hers; he had a spinal column sticking out from his back, just like she did. His left cheek on up past his eye was humanoid in appearance—this, along with the one brown eye that he possessed, had come from his mother. The dark red flier, that he had for a right eye, had come from his father.

"Both you and he will like it over here. It's peaceful and quiet. He'll be able to get over his space travel sickness in no time while over h—"

Irka stopped speaking; after teleporting to the island, then leading her granddaughter towards the clearing where the children were, she stopped. When she saw what was going on in the clearing, she couldn't help but gasp.

"Baruk! Gaajah!" she screamed as she ran forward. "Get off of my son!"

Irka grabbed the big man, who was the same height as her son, but who was slightly less muscular then he, by the shoulders; she tried to no avail to get him off her son, who he was doing more than a little damage to. She pulled the shoulders that she had her hands on for only two seconds before feeling herself being flung away; after landing, she rolled over then started screaming for the others—her screaming was only amplified after she saw that there was another man causing harm to another of the children.

Gaajah, she saw, was being assaulted by one who was very athletically built; although her father-in-law's son was fighting his attacker, he couldn't, really, get a good grip on him.

Rita screamed in her screechy way after seeing what was going on on the island—though her grandmother's scream was loud, it was really her own scream that attracted the attention of everyone who was on the other side of the river. Cyla, Duru, Trobrencus, and Shaam appeared first, then her husband, Vile, Lord Zedd, Triskull, and Dara Dara showed up. Cheshire and Tazir appeared next; Ashaklar, Efagti, Amadh, and Eshal were the final ones to appear on the island. Eshal issued out a scream after seeing that Baruk was being attacked; the men were just gearing up to rush forward—to put an end to the assault—when the man who was attacking Baruk turned his head. The man had no more turned his head before howling—Baruk had managed to take advantage of the distraction. His knee was driven very quickly into the man's groin.

The man, as expected, made a few noises then dropped to his side—again, as expected, his hands went down to cover the spot that, to her, had been justifiably assaulted. Instead of backing off, Baruk jumped on his assailant then started beating him up. He gave off five good punches before finding himself being ripped off his attacker—Irka's eyes went wide as she watched the athletically built man go to work in aiding the one who had just been felled.

"Hey! Heyhey!"

DuruVile ran forward, yelling all the way; the man, who had green skin, and who looked oddly like that of a Zetakin, started attacking both his son and his grandson—Baruk looked to be in a big daze while Gaajah looked to be way out of his element.

Baruk's face was bloody—he looked as if he had been in a nasty fight—and it looked like his son's face was going in that same general direction. He saw that Gaajah had a three inch long gash on his cheek; his arm was cut in three places, and he had a small cut above his eye. It looked like Baruk's face was a cut-leaden mess—the cut that went over his left eye was horrible, as were the two cuts that were on both of his cheeks, and his chin had more than a dozen "holes" in it. Baruk also had a four inch long gash to his forehead; his lower lip looked to be busted all to hell and there was no mistaking it that he had a cut of some sort to the top of his head.

When he reached the green-skinned man, who had since placed his hands around Baruk's neck, and who had since given Gaajah a fierce kick to the knee, he wasted no time in grabbing him. He heaved him up by his pants then he threw him to the side—the man bounced once then rolled over to his side. While he went to work in looking over his injured relatives, the green-skinned man crawled over to the bigger man, who was quick in grabbing him by arm.

The big man swung the green-skinned man behind him; DuruVile quickly escorted his son and grandson over to where the adults were then, in similar, quick fashion, turned towards the two men. He was seething mad; here were two mature men—two beings who should know better than to attack one who was nothing more than a child, who neither knew quick maneuvering or how to do any real-deal fighting—who needed more than a single ass kicking. He stared at the two men for a second before charging up a lightning bolt—a red one... one that would show that he meant business. After charging said lightning bolt, he threw it.

Quite surprisingly, the big man, despite just coming off from being knee'd in the groin, leaped up; he grabbed the lightning bolt then threw it to the side. DuruVile was quick in throwing out three more; the man repeated his former move... he added a twist to his jump right after collecting the attack that had just been thrown at him. A white lightning bolt, then a black one, was thrown next; these two were thrown back to him—he threw up a shield to repel his just returned power attacks right after seeing that they were coming his way.

Before he could send out another attack, Homsi ran up. He forgot about the big man, who was down on one knee, breathing heavily, but still acting as if he had a lot more to give; he turned on the Goblin right after seeing him.

"You was told to watch the kids!" DuruVile snapped at the Goblin.

"I was—"

"You wasn't! We come over here to see them—" DuruVile pointed at Bile and Lhaklar. "—causing mayhem! Look at Baruk and Gaajah, you idiot! They're been badly assaulted... they've been badly cut! They could of been seriously hurt by them men!"

"Homsi, I'm surprised with you." TazirVile said. "I gave you an order—watch the kids. Where were you when them two showed up?"

"I _was_ watching the kids, sir." Homsi said. Though annoyed over being accused of not doing something that he had been told to do, and that he had been doing, he sustained that annoyance—it could mean the difference between either being viciously snapped at or worse, fired. He started to explain what had been going on on the island. "Baruk and Gaajah started bullying Qhuakiz and Impub. I did my utmost best to get them to leave the two of them alone to no avail, they wouldn't listen. They kept bullying—"

"I don't believe that my baby brother assaulted a little kid." Master Vile said.

"It twu!" Qhuakiz cried while running up to his father. He grabbed his father's hand, yanked it, then grabbed him by his pant legs. "It twu, daddy! He hit me! Deh beeg kid hit me in deh feece, daddy!"

"Look at Qhuakiz's face!" Ashaklar screamed. Her young son's face was a bruised and swollen up mess; there was a steady stream of blood pooling from his nostrils, she couldn't count how many scrapes and cuts he on him. "Cheshire! Look at Qhuakiz's face!"

"Dad," ImpubVile ran up, then grabbed and started tugging at his father's sleeve. TrobrencusVile turned to look at him; both he and Bahne gasped after seeing what he looked like. The injuries that he had to his face were nearly identical to those that Qhuakiz had on his. "They did attack us... Baruk and Gaajah, they started pushing, shoving, kicking, and then punching us. Homsi was trying to help us—they turned on him too."

Impub spoke of how the two men had come up from out of nowhere, and of how they had ganged up on Baruk and Gaajah, which had given Homsi enough time to get Qhuakiz to a more safer location. Homsi, Impub said, had just been returning to the area to fend the two men off when Irka, Rita, and Thrax showed up; after hearing this, just about every adult in the clearing turned. They looked at Baruk and Gaajah, who automatically recoiled in fear. Gaajah was the only one of the two to give off a nervous titter; Baruk gave off a small smile then looked at his feet. KurukVile stormed over to his son, grabbed him by the shoulder, then pulled him in close; before releasing him, he whispered that he was in a world of trouble soon after the two men were run off. DuruVile yelled at his son, then gave him two swats, then told him that he best be expecting for a lesson or two to be given to him later on that mid-morning.

Irka and Cyla shook their heads at their sons; while they were still angry over the two men attacking the boys they were also disgusted and ashamed at the boys in question who had just been caught bullying ones who were far younger, smaller, and weaker than they. Trobrencus and Bahne looked after their injured son quickly; it was noted that he'd need some stitches, and a good session with some medication, before they turned their attentions towards the two men who were still in the area. Cheshire had since taken Qhuakiz into his arms; his and his wife's youngest son and child would also need a good session with some medication—and he'd need a little bit of spoiling to quell his nervousness. After Baruk and Gaajah were given the warning about what they were to get later on that morning, and then after Qhuakiz and Impub were looked at, all of the adults turned to look at Bile and Lhaklar, who had since gotten to their feet.

DuruVile was quick in noting that the two of them had injuries on them; the big man, who was no man at all but his currently unknown to him young great-grandson, had a few cuts and bruises on his face, and his knuckles were near-destroyed. The athletically built man, who, again, was no man at all but his young grandson, had the same marks on him; the long cut that was on his left arm looked rather nasty—the sleeve of the "man's" shirt was getting drenched, the cut was that damn bad.

DuruVile glared at the two men before stooping low; he took a decently sized rock up from the ground then threw it at them. He found himself quite surprised after his rock was returned to him—the big man had grabbed and then thrown it right back. The athletically built man reacted by sending four rocks his way. Both actions pissed him off.

"Go on! Get out of here!" DuruVile yelled. He shot a stream of fire at the two men; the athletically built man reacted by grabbing and then twirling it. The man threw it back to him after giving it three, quick, twirls.

"Who are these two?" Rita asked. "The one in the back looks an awful lot like you, daddy."

"That's because he's related." Homsi said. "He's Young Master Bile; the youngster standing beside him is Master Tazir's son—Young Master Lhaklar."

"What!" everyone gasped. Rita, Rito, and Master Vile gawked out at the two boys who had just been identified.


	17. Chapter 17

He had very little time to act! There was very little time for him to get his brother under control and then out of the area; the big guy—Bile—had his feet firmly planted, and he didn't seem to be thinking clearly, so this given time for their escape was going by and fast. Bile was almost like a rock right now; his eyes were fixated in the same way that they would be if he had just seen a girl that he might or might not have an interest in—which was comical, since there were no "available" girls in the area for him to gain an interest in.

Everyone had gasped and then gone stock-still, just like Bile was now—this momentary paralyzation of the ones who they needed to be away from could well be put to use... he and his brother could use their temporary paralyzation to get away, and to concoct some sort of story to explain what all they had done that day. Instead of doing the run and then escape routine they were just standing in place... their time to escape was flying by and neither of them could do or say a thing to stop it from doing so.

"Bile... come on, man!" he whispered in his brother's ear as he tugged his right arm. Bile neither acknowledged him nor made any movement to shake him off or to turn and then flee. When he yanked his brother down to his eye-level, he saw that his eyes were more focused on one of the people who were in the other group—a quick tracing of what his brother was looking at told him that they might be in even more trouble than he thought. Bile, his brother, who was a hundred years older than he, was staring at the very one who had made his creation possible.

Of course, this should be no surprise to him—neither he nor Bile had seen the man in a long time now and that went double on hearing anything about him. Bile wasn't getting ready to rush over and then give the man a hug, or to ask him how he's been, or to do the catch-up game; he wasn't staring at the man out of warm-hearted bliss—he was pissed at his being here.

Bile's harbored feelings towards the man were the same as his—he hated the guy to a T. The man, his brother's father, was also their mother's father; Bile, as sad as it was to say, or think, was a child of incest. Not only did the man have a sick way of going by things—who in their right mind would marry their daughter and then sire offspring through said daughter?—he was also dangerous. He had a tendency to be mean and, most of the time, he liked to spread that meanness by inflicting pain on the ones around him. His mother carried a good many marks from him; to that day, she carried the "war-wounds" that he had inflicted on her. Along with inflicting physical marks on her, he had also raped her time and again until, finally, she had conceived a child—his brother.

Really, everyone who was in the opposing group had hurt their mother sometime in the past. There, off to the right, stood the man who, technically, was his grandfather—DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit had used torture to get his mother to respect him... he had gone so far as to use a belt, that had spikes embedded in it, and then a large ice cube to gain the "respect" that he wanted from her. Two people down the row from his grandfather stood the man who was, technically, his uncle—KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit had once "joined up" with his son to inflict major damage to his mother. The two had used whips to douse the "fire" that burned within her then they had used candlewax on one of her delicate areas then they had had the nerve to snip her hair completely off. The reason behind this given torture? Well, his mother claimed that they had been trying to "beat" her into submission and break her will in wanting to escape them again. The man who was off to the far left had also hurt his mother; the zombie-looking guy had once taken his cane to his mother... had once had the nerve to strike her—and there had been absolutely no reason for him to do so! He had just swung and then hit her and then arched his eyebrows—no apologies on his part had been given for the "accidental" hit.

All of the rotten history that these people had with his and his brother's mother had been told to them on the night before the day that Bile was sent off to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; mom had taken the two of them to the side then had told them everything—from the history that she had on the planet, to the history that she had with her "family", and to the history that her "family" had with her.

"Mom came from here... she was born here, in 1758... in Greece. Though having a rough upbringing, she harbors no bad feelings towards the one who raised her or towards the ones who caused her near-constant grief." he thought as he tried to get his brother's attention.

After coming back from her half-tenure at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, his mother spent a good lot of years just wandering the globe. She had seen a lot between returning to Earth and then finding herself running from her father—seeing Krakatoa erupt; seeing Mount St. Helens erupt; being the riding pony for Man o' War during his final race; plagues; natural disasters; wars; the many beginnings of the twentieth century's music and movie genres; the various ages where the humans' taste in clothing changed... the list just went on and on.

Master Vile had managed to pull a trick out of his hat soon after arriving on the planet; he had gotten his mother to leave the safety of her then-sanctuary—which had been the cave that use to be near Angel Grove, California—then he had taken her captive with the intent of turning her into his "next of kin"—of training her to become just as evil as he was. Fights had happened; his mother had been injured time and again in each of them... she had actually come very close to being killed in a few of them but, by the graces of the Gods, she had managed to stay alive. She had been whipped countless times; changed into being five years old more than twice; beaten and then raped more than once; and chased and chased and chased again. Her first pregnancy with the man who had claimed her through Family Law had ended in swift abortion—instead of having, and then raising the child, she had decided to get rid of it; his mother had said that, back then, she hadn't had any desire to have any offspring by her father and she had done her best to ensure this. An abortion, which had taken place on a planet called Deocomos, which was in a realm that his uncle "owned", had been done to get rid of that first baby; the second incest-conceived child born to his mother had been his brother—Bile. That baby was still alive and kicking—mom had accepted responsibility after taking care of herself, and him, in the hot and cold, forbidding desert of Egypt for a few weeks; after having him, then holding him for the first time, she had accepted the job of mothering him.

"My father "caught wind" of her just before Bile was conceived," he thought. "Even though he chased after her, like all the others did, and caught her a few times, he didn't abuse or harm her. I was conceived shortly before the two discovered that they were husband and wife."

The man who was technically his grandfather had never accepted him; in a lot of ways, the feeling was mutual with him—he didn't like him nor did he accept him either. Master Vile had actually tried to dispose of him and Bile where they were mere babies—he had either tried to take them from their mother so he could get his hands dirty in their blood or he had tried to force their mother into abandoning them.

All of that was deep stuff. Bad stuff. The stuff that authors wrote about in their fiction stories, even. Sadly, all of this bad stuff was their—his, his brothers', and their mother's—history. This was how his and Bile's first one hundred years of living had gone... this was how they had lived for their first one hundred years of being in the Universe.

Granddad Vile had shunned him right after he had been born, then he had tried to get rid of Bile; he had said something about having plans to have a better son with their mother. Granddad Vile, who was no grandfather to, really, any of them, had done more harm than good to their mother—he had even gone so far as to kill her by thrusting his hand into her belly. The story went that his nails had ripped into the flesh of her belly like butter; instead of pulling his hand out cleanly, he had ripped it up and then out of her... causing a horrible wound that had caused her temporary demise.

Though feeling an anger towards the man, and though wanting to rush over to teach him a lesson on who not to mess with, he suppressed it; this was not a time to be angry, or to be "brave" in defending mom's honor. This was a time for control—he was the one who typically kept himself better together; Bile had a way of flying off the handle at things, Hazaar was especially snappish when he was in a situation, and Lazeer was too deep on himself, and his eye problem, to keep himself centered correctly.

"Bile..." Lhaklar said lowly. He pulled his brother's arm hard enough to make him take a step back. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"That's my father. The man who hurt ma... who—"

"Yes, Brother. That is he. Come on, we gotta get out of here."

"Dark Dad..."

"Yes, Brother." Lhaklar pulled on his brother's arm again.

"I want to throttle him!"

"Mom's already going to throttle us, don't dig your grave deeper!" Lhaklar said fiercely. "Look at our faces! Our clothes! My arm! Mom's going to freak!"

Lhaklar looked out at the man who, right after his birth occurred, had denied him the "right" of being called a grandson of his; as much as it pained him to think it, the man did look like his brother—which he thought was a shame... though it pained him to hate someone who looked like someone that he loved he thought that the hate was very correctly given.

Master Vile had a height of six foot, five inches—he was two inches taller than his youngest son. His ears, which, like Bile's, were elongated, ran the entire length of his shoulders; they were a gold color, there were a series of black, Tiger-like stripes on both of them. His shoulders were big and powerful-looking—they resembled those of what Bile had. As far as he could remember, the man was bi-colored, just like Bile was. The left side of his head, and, he presumed, body, was gold while the other side of him was a dark blue color; he had glowing, golden-yellow eyes—the pupils that they possessed in their centers were tiny, round, and black in color. The man had long, and sharp looking, dark blue fingernails; his facial structure was very humanoid in appearance—a thin nose, which tapered down sharply; a pair of thin lips; and a brow that seemed much too thick on him, that was what was in his face.

The man was wearing a long, black robe; a black cape, from which a pair of shoulder wraps were attached to, was flowing from the man's backside. Even from his present distance, he could see that the shoulder wraps had an adornment on them that wasn't normal—the snake heads, that were near the man's chin, were moving! To him, it looked like the both of them would, on occasion, pull up to either nuzzle or nip at their wearer's chin; the snake head that was to the man's chin's right was dark blue in color while the one that was to the left of his chin was gold. There were a series of neck adornments around the man's neck—a blue scarf, for starters; two kerchiefs, one that was a dull red color while the other was a dull gold color, and both looking to of been made out of a thick material, were below that. On the man's feet were a pair of very shiny, black shoes; if he recalled correctly, the man was fond of wearing black pants under his robes—he wouldn't put it past the man to be wearing that attire now. The gloves that were on the man's hands ran all the way back to his elbows; they were a gold color, there were holes in the ends—to accommodate his fingernails, no doubt on that. The pair of glasses that the man wore over his eyes were a blue-tinted color.

The breast-plate that Master Vile had on over the front of his robe was mostly dull gold in color; up, near the plate's breast area, were a few small, circular, aqua-colored areas; a circular, ruby-colored area was near the plate's waist area. There was a gold chain mail hanging down from the plate's rib-area; a thin, gold chain hung down from it. A white-furred tassel, that was tied off on the end with a red string, was beside the gold chain. Beside the white-furred tassel hung another tassel—he knew well where this second tassel had come from; "legend" claimed that, after snipping her hair off, his uncle had taken and then given the just head-evicted hair to his wife, who had made a bunch of tassels out of it. "Legend" also said that she had had the nerve to distribute each and every one of her morbidly made tassels to the members of her family.

He, honestly, wanted to run over and then tear that tassel off—with considerable effort, he prevented himself from doing so. Though struggling to do so, he managed to get his brother to back up four feet; whether it be coincidence or just plain fate, he had just given his brother a good jab in the back when the man who was responsible for his own creation stepped forward.

"L-Lhaklar?" TazirVile said shockedly.

With his son standing behind Bile, and with Bile being so big and tall, he couldn't see him—after getting over his initial shock in seeing the two of them, he decided to change this. He slowly walked around Bile, who looked to be very fixated on the ones who were still standing behind him; Lhaklar, his son who he hadn't seen in so long, turned to look at him right after noticing that there was a "presence" near him.

The world around him had already slowed up; when he finally got the chance to see his son in person, the planets located all around the Universe completely stopped in revolving around their respective stars and suns—he couldn't be a prouder man... he couldn't be prouder to of been the half-party responsible for the creation of his and his wife's firstborn.

He had done his own evaluation of the security films that his search had acquired over the weeks; all that he had made notes on was clicked with a nice, large, checkmark. His son was in better than fine shape; very athletically built, had good muscle on him, looked right intelligent in the face, and, what's better, he looked very spot-on to him—if not for his having mint-green skin, and Pistachio-colored eyes, he'd look like his twin.

Here stood his firstborn son, fully alive and in the flesh; he was a little beat up, had a few cuts to his face and arms, but he looked very healthy. That silly, brown and green checkered, long sleeve, button down shirt had been exchanged for a green plaid one—which looked damn good on him! The pair of dark brown pants that his son was wearing looked of the formal sort to him. While looking his son over, he realized that he wasn't wearing goggled glasses—the sun was out... it was blasting its rays down upon everything in their area and yet, here was his son... out in the open, and with no eye-ware over his eyes to boot. At first glance and observation, it looked like the boy had no issues with his eyes—he felt grateful for that. Seeing his son in the flesh, and not in a photograph, or video, made him feel as if the vast weight that had settled over his shoulders had lifted.

One thousand, six hundred years of searching had come to this. Had come to his finally finding his firstborn son... of finding him alive and well in the flesh.

"Look at you... look very healthy my son." TazirVile said to his son, who, he perceived, was eyeing him with grand curiosity. "Your mother's been tending you well."

Even though his attention had been derived by his father's presence, he did, finally, get the reaction out of Bile that he had been trying to get for the last minute to two minutes—either it was the mention of their mother that got Bile to move or it was the slight, and currently unknown to him, move that his father had done. Whatever the cause, once Bile got moving, he didn't stop; he turned on a dime then plowed right into him—he was flattened to the ground for just a second before using one of his Elemental Air abilities, and a sideways rolling leap, to get to his feet. Once his feet were under him, and he was away from the one who had rushed at him after he had been flattened to the ground, he bolted. He took off in pursuit of his brother, who had already gotten to the river, and who was already in the process of crossing it.

Bile was fast; he had made a record in running track when he had been a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. The old record had been 2:06:54; by blasting that track apart, Bile had reset it by over fifty-eight seconds—that record, which stood at 1:48:12, had been said to last a very long time by everyone at the school.

While he was fast, he wasn't as fast as his brother... and he didn't have that good control of his body either—his legs sometimes got in the way; he had yet to figure them out... to get them from being untangled during the early part of a run.

By the time he reached the river, Bile was already standing on the other side; just before he could cross the river a ribbon of white water rose up. He found himself trapped on the island—his mother, he knew, would be more than angry with him if she ever learned of his being near the people that he was trapped with and that he had left the shield to play "Memory Lane" with the ones that she had told both him and his brother to stay away from. After seeing his predicament, he turned then went towards the first tree that he saw; though slow in reaching it, he reached it before any of his pursuers got to him. He began climbing right after reaching the one-foot boundary; the leap was flawless, as he had expected for it to be, and so was the act of grabbing the lowest branch. It was all swing, hook of the legs, then swing over to the next branch afterwards; by the time he had reached the top of the tree, only twenty seconds had passed. When he looked down, he saw that the tree was surrounded by the people that his mother didn't want him near.

"Tazzy, give me your jacket." Ashaklar said. Her voice was heavily clouded with concern.

"Still a tree climber, Son?" TazirVile yelled up the tree. He took his jacket off, gave it to his mother, then went towards the tree's trunk. "Seems that he's gotten faster with his climbing."

"Be careful, he might be injured." Ashaklar cautioned her son.

"Highly doubt it—if he can climb a tree that fast, he can't be but so injured." DuruVile said.

"Bile plowed right into him... flattened him to his back, then ran over him." Ashaklar started to point out. "Not to mention, he was in a fight. He is injured."

"Go get your son, Tazir." DuruVile sighed.

Never in his wildest dreams had he ever expected for Bile to react in the way that he had—all he had done was put his hand on his arm to calm him down; that, in itself, should not of warranted such a violent reaction. He, as any good father should, had rushed forward after seeing his son being trampled; before he could lay hand on the boy he had gotten up and then run off—the use of his powers, along with jumping up and then rolling in mid-air, had been suburb... it looked like his son's Elemental powers had grown powerful over the years and, what's better, it looked like he had been training with them. Bile was one fast youngster; before he could put up the white water ribbon to bar the two boys from entering the water Bile had already gotten into the river—he had been halfway across when Lhaklar stopped and then started towards the tree that he was currently hiding in.

Tazir climbed up the tree carefully; being careful so not to cause himself harm and being slow so not to scare his son, who he knew was a bit unnerved. It took him a few minutes to get to the part of the tree that his son was on; by the time he finished his climb, his son was looking for a way to escape him. He got on the branch that his son was on slowly, then he held his hands out—in order to gain a little bit of trust in the boy, who hadn't seen him in a right long stretch of years, he showed that he had no weapons on him with which to cause him harm—, then he started thinking up some words to say.

Although he saw recognition in his son's eyes he also saw something else. Fear, and the want to get away. Tazir slowly made his way towards his son, who did as he had expected him to do—back away.

"Son, you can't go any further now." he said. "The branch won't hold your weight; come over to me, I've been looking for you, your mother, and Bile for a while now."

"Go away." his son said in a weak, nervous, and fear-leaden voice.

Like the man had said, he couldn't go any farther on the branch—it was thinning, and it was already showing the stress of holding his weight.

He couldn't go down the tree, there were people underneath him, surrounding the tree—to him, they looked like a pack of wolves. It almost looked like they were waiting for the pray-animal to fall, or give up so they could feed—this pissed him off.

When he looked across the river, he saw no hint of his brother; the automatic feeling for him was betrayal—Bile had left him behind... had left him on the island, to be the prey for the predators, who were their own flesh and blood. With this firmly placed under his "cap", he turned to look at his father; a fist was flashed out, two fire balls rolled out then a Fire Fist, then a blue air swipe, followed. His father leaped to avoid each of his attacks—he looked very much like a cricket... before jumping, his bottom came close to touching the branch. When he landed, his did so with ease—no slip, no sway, no wobble, no off-balance antics were exhibited. After his father leaped, he guessed that it was he who he had gotten his limberness from—though a little slow sometimes, he could leap and dodge any sort of obstacle that came upon him with ease as well.

Lhaklar leaped over to the nearest branch, which was five feet away; his father leaped over in pursuit, which made him go for another branch. He landed hard on this one; one of his feet slipped, then his balance caused him to go belly-down on the bark. Right when his father leaped over to the branch that he had fallen on, a gust of air escaped him—seeing things as they were, he having half of his wind knocked out of him, and his predator on the branch with him, and no other branches to jump to, or any strength to jump to another branch, he swung around then released the branch that he was on. It was an automatic thing that he wished that he hadn't of done so because, when he landed on the branch that was two feet down from the one that he had formerly been on, he landed on a spot that no young—or grown—man wanted to land on.

The rest of his air was knocked clean out of him, as was the will to escape and to keep away from the one who was pursuing him.

"Oooooh! That poor kid!" Cheshire made a face after his grandson landed crotch-first on the branch.

"Find the only kid of yours that's survived and he happens to knock out the jems. That's outrageous!" Master Vile laughed.

Even though his crotch was causing him considerable agony, he barely gave it a thought—after hearing the man who, technically, was his grandfather say that he was the "only" kid of his father's to "survive" he was engulfed in a wave of emotion that could only be described as both anger and sadness. He fought this wave of emotion for two seconds before, finally, pushing himself up; he was in the process of getting his feet under him when a pair of hands touched his back—instead of getting to his feet, he turned then looked at the one who had followed him to the branch; this caused him to fall back to the branch... and it also nearly caused him to fall down to the ones who were waiting at the tree's base.

His father grabbed his by his shoulders at the last second; he positioned him well, then helped him to his feet, then turned him so that the branch was horizontal under him.

He couldn't help but stare into the eyes that looked so like his own; this man looked so like him yet, in a lot of way, he also didn't. The eye-shape was the same, yes, but they were silver instead of pistachio, and his body build was much more sturdily built. He looked the man in the eye for a few seconds before looking down at his arm—the man's hand was on him... he was "coaxing" him into a safe position to jump, which he did not want to do.

Fear gripped him after he noticed the positioning; was this man, who had been a father figure to him for six hundred years, still a good man? Was this man going to hurt him? Lhaklar got no answer to these questions; his father continued to maneuver him then, after getting him in a position that he deemed correct, told him to jump—he, in response, shook his head. He wasn't about to do that; he didn't knew this man anymore, and that went double for the ones who were around the tree's base. He was about to push the man back when the ground that was near the tree's base erupted; Bile rose up on a tornado of dirt, twirled twice, then flung his arms out. Lhaklar flew away from his self-thought predator at once—in like fashion, while he went left, towards the river, his "predator" went right, towards the island. When he crashed into the river, he swallowed more than enough water to fill two lungs; he struggled under the water's surface for all of two seconds before forcing his arms and legs to work—it took just two kicks before his head appeared over the water. His brother, after seeing that he was safe, leaped from his tornado of dirt; he landed in the river, then swam over to him, then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

Two seconds of fussing and fighting ensued before he found himself on the river's opposite bank—not only was he away from his father, and them other people, but he and his brother were also on the wrong side of the river.

"Lhaklar?" Bile said as he shook his shoulder. He was lying face down on the rocky shoreline; the pain from his falling crotch-first on the branch still had him. "You okay? I got over to the shore and you wasn't with me—I panicked! I thought you was behind me, Lhaklar!"

After escaping the island, then swimming over to the left-side riverbank, he had shook himself off and then started to leave the area; he had only gone two steps before realizing that his little brother, who could be such a pest sometimes with his daddy-acting routine, wasn't with him, or even on the side of the river that he was on. He had run back and forth along the shore; his brother's name had been yelled, he had yelled a bunch of incoherent things, then he had cursed after seeing where he was and, furthermore, that he was cornered.

He had panicked, then he had leaped into the air high; his body had been dipped then he had started spinning. Upon entering the ground, he had become something like that of a drill—he had "drilled" himself over to the island, then right up to where the tree was.

He knew he had flattened, and possibly injured, several in his attempt to save his little brother and he felt bad for that but... Lhaklar was his brother. He just couldn't leave or go home without him. His lower legs had a few, deep cuts to them now; the gashes that he had on his arms, and on his left hand, were spewing blood, but he didn't feel any pain. Pain, he thought, would happen later, after all the "excitement" had come to an end.

His brother wasn't standing or even walking around; he was lying face-down on the rocks of their side of the river's shore. His legs were spread wide and, for some odd reason, he had his hands between his legs. He shook his brother once before jumping out of the way—Lhaklar had sat upright; his fist had been flashed at him.

"You left me behind!" Lhaklar snapped. "You left me behind for the predators to pick up!"

"I didn't mean to," Bile moped. "I'm sorry, what happened to you? Why are you—"

"Why the hell do you care," Lhaklar turned around then leaned down.

"Did they hurt you?" Bile asked. "Did they, Lhakie?"

"No, dammit! A friggin' branch busted my biscuits to pieces!"

Bile pulled back; while a man's sack was sacred it was also damn fragile. A woman could be kicked down there and be able to walk within a minute or two while a man would be down for a while. One day, when he and Hazaar had been jumping on the bed that was in his and Lazeer's room, he had landed on his back while Hazaar had landed, elbow down, on his crotch. Hazaar had gotten a good left hook from him—he had gone squealing for ma while he had just rolled over. A man's pride was tested when the jewels were mashed, punched, elbowed, or worse, kicked; it took a lot for a man to not get up and chase the ball-offending punk down for a pounding.

Bile quickly went to the water's edge; he shot his fist at the water then raised it up. An ice cube rose out of the water then, not one second later, was shattered into more than a dozen pieces. He collected a handful or two of these pieces then gave them to his brother, who grabbed, then shoved them down the front of his pants. He mumbled his thanks then dropped to his side—when he curled up in fetal position, he neither went forward to see if he was okay or asked if he was okay. He simply sat near him. He waited—while a fist to the balls was bad, and a foot to the balls was worse, the act of having yourself fall crotch-down on a branch was even worse. You had your weight going against you, which meant for a much worse situation. He hoped that his brother was okay.

"Th-they think that Hazaar and Lazeer are dead." Lhaklar said two minutes later.

"What?" Bile said. He had been in a daze; he hadn't heard what his brother had said.

"Your father, he said that Hazaar and Lazeer are dead. My father said nothing about that. I-I think that even he thinks they are."

"That man is not my father!" Bile exclaimed. " _You_ are _not_! _You_ are _not_! And why shouldn't we be surprised—they probably thought that we were all dead."

"My father said that he had been looking for me, you, and mom for a while; he said nothing on looking for Hazaar and Lazeer as well." Lhaklar's voice, which was low and powerful, but still not as powerful as that of his brother's, was heavy with anger and sadness. "I think that's why mom doesn't want us near them or them near us—pop was looking for only half of his children, not all. He doesn't care for his two younger children, just his older ones."

"You adding me in there or... Ebal? Ekhal? Whatever her name is—I remember a sister, but I can't remember her name."

"Yes, you. Me and you—he was concentrating on just you, me, and mom. Not you, me, mom, Hazaar, and Lazeer." Lhaklar said as he sat upright.

"Can you get up? Or walk? Hate to say it, but it's getting late—you know how ma is with curfew." Bile said. He then started ringing out the order that they had been given after reaching their "age-appropriate" venturing days, "Be in by seven, no exceptions."

They walked along the shore for a while; neither said a word to the other, or spoke any jokes, or even hummed—Bile figured that his brother's quiet was stemming from what his father had said... about his only looking for them and their mother and not their younger brothers too. While he felt a trifle bit hurt by that he figured that the reason behind this was simple—Hazaar had been a hundred years old, and Lazeer had only been four months old, when they were taken from Moas and then relocated to Earth; a lot had happened over the years on the planet, so he figured that the man thought that the two had perished in a plague or, quite possibly, a natural disaster.

He had no idea on how long his father had been searching for them—maybe a couple of years, or on and off, or continuous. All he knew was that he was here and that they—he and his brother—were far from home. Lhaklar had picked a cloud-effect for his teleportation effect while he had picked a cool, groovy, black implosion effect for his; when his brother teleported to the other side of the river he followed. They walked behind the ships for a bit, and were just heading towards home, when someone behind them started yelling.

Bile looked back only once; after seeing the Goblin, who was yelling and pointing them out, he turned then gave his brother a push to get going. He began running towards the shield that was around their resident town; his brother followed him by, at least, a couple dozen feet. Even though they had five Goblins following them, they pulled away fast; they had just reached the train tracks when their breaks were put on.

"Green River—home for the last three hundred and twenty-two years." he thought after seeing the shield that was around their resident town.

In 2010, the population of Green River, Wyoming had been some 12,801 persons strong; with all the plagues and natural disasters that had happened over the years, that number had dropped. The once large city was now a small town; it currently had a population of only three thousand persons—he, his brothers, and their mother were five of that number. A train station was in the town's center; trains came and went as they pleased, as did the hobos, who rode in on the cars with the hope of getting somewhere without being noticed—and without having to pay for a ticket. He and Hazaar had once walked down one of the train tracks; Hazaar, he remembered, had fallen—his knees had been scraped right to the bone, but he had been fine. Hazaar was still a frequent visitor of the train station—like with his and Lhaklar's antics with the nearby town ladies, and with their smoking, he kept this to himself. Ma would flip if she caught any of them anywhere near the train tracks, or the train station—sometimes, no-good people, or, from time to time, a disease-carrying hobo, or a hobo who was sick upstairs, holed up there.

One day, he had come across one of them disease-carrying hobos—the man's face had looked half-rotten, and he had been carrying more than enough warts on his fingers, and he had smelled something awful! On another occasion, he had been chased from the station by a man who had been holding the remnants of what looked to be a halfway decent sandwich—this man had had one eye, one arm, and he had also had something wrong with one of his legs.

The town use to have a mall in it; the building that use to house more than a hundred retail stores was all boarded up and dilapidated now—all of the stores, with their various goods, had been left intact inside; he and his brothers sometimes pried one of the boards back to go in to see what the inside looked like... and to see if there was anything good left over to bring home. The mall had gone with the last plague; the humans had just gone crazy with their shopping then they had done their best to hold themselves up at home—while some had survived the last plague, there had still been a lot of casualties.

Gone was McDonald's—it had gone bust after the last plague. Gone was Burger King—it, too, had gone during the last plague. Gone was Wendy's, Chick-Fil-A—a restaurant that their mother said she was glad to see gone; the food, she claimed, had no taste to it and the clientele were just an unfriendly bunch. Whether it was coincidence or not, Chick-Fil-A had actually been the starting place of the Plague of the Meats—as they called it. The only restaurant that was still up and running was Kentucky Fried Chicken—which he was more than glad for; he liked the restaurant's various menu items and he just couldn't get enough of its chicken. The waitresses that worked them restaurants were also nice—good to look at, good to flirt with, and friendly to boot. Arby's and Hardees were also gone—they had gone down after first plague occurred; neither had managed to recover after the first "modern" plague came to a close.

There were thirty apartments in the town; he and his family lived in one of them, and they weren't bad off. Their mother, after moving into the town, had done all that she could to keep a down low for a few hundred years; after being discovered by one of the descendants of a friends of hers, her, and, really, their, cover had been "blown". People who did movies had approached her; she had been asked if she could supply the "effects" to some of the disaster films that had yet to enter the in-developement stage—these humans had asked her if she could use her Elemental powers on the films that they had approached her to do and, quite surprisingly, she had said yes. Over the last eleven hundred years, she had helped to create the "special effects" for more than fifty films—as was the norm, she had been paid well for each job that she had taken on; all that she had made had gone towards them.

There were rows of houses on one side of the town; the apartments were on the other side—they were either single floor or double; he and his family lived in one of the two-level apartments.

Lhaklar worked in the town's center; a place called Kale's World, which was a stripper joint, that employed both men and women, was where he earned his "paycheck". Lhaklar was said to be one of Kale Hemingway's best dancers—though not fully interested in what he did for a "living", he had popped his head in the establishment to see what he did while "working". Lhaklar shaked, shimmered, twirled around; he threw his clothes off; danced on either a pole-less stage or a stage that had a pole on it... he looked to have a good ol' time when he was "at work"—and the ladies sure seemed to like what he was doing. He brought home anywhere around $300 every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday—at present, most of what he made went towards the funds that were needed for Lazeer's goggled glasses; the rest went towards the bills, and food for the cabinets... and for whatever repairs that were needed to be done on the apartment.

Ma thought that his brother was working at one of the food marts; she didn't ask much on the job except for how it was going, how his boss acted around him, and how his co-workers acted around him. Ma and Lhaklar both worked, but it was really Lhaklar who brought home the bacon. There were two food marts in the town; both were doing well. There was a flea market in their town as well; people threw down their towels, or blankets, or even put up large display tents or stands in the place. He and his brothers made a point every three to four months to go to the place to find something for their mother—their trips were always done when it was cloudy out; no need to drag Lazeer out when the sun was out, and no need to hurt him, or his eye. They usually bought her jewelry, or something nice to wear, like a dress or a blouse or some shoes; she always accepted the items that they got for her—she'd do her rounds in giving them a hug, then she'd say that they were wonderful and that she loved them.

The town of Green River was surrounded by a pink shield—the likes, of which, their mother had put up over two thousand years ago. She had done a spell on it to allow them and only them access to leaving and then entering it; as far as they knew, the humans stayed inside the shields that were over their towns—there were a series of tunnels that connected each shielded town; everything was as safe as can be, thanks to her and her shields and tunnels.

He and his brother saw the town; it was about five miles from them, but they couldn't get to it. Something—er, someone—was in their way. The man behind his creation was directly in front of them... blocking their path. Before they could say anything, Lhaklar's father appeared, as did DuruVile, KurukVile, and Cheshire—a man who the both of them still couldn't place a name to.

"Alright boys, you're both injured. You need to come with us so we can look at and then tend the injuries that you have." the big, burly, KurukVile said both loudly and strongly.

"Neither of you have a thing to be worried or scared about," TazirVile said. "None of us will hurt you."

"You can still run, right?" Bile asked his brother.

"Yes," Lhaklar replied.

"Then let's make dust!"

Bile shot to the left, then quickly made some tracks; his father veered in his direction soon after seeing where he was going—instead of grabbing him like a normal father would, he swiped at him. Four, long gashes appeared on Bile's right arm; they started gushing blood at once, which pissed him off.

Lhaklar went to the right; he went wide on purpose before evening out. He was just barely able to get by his father. It was quite evident on his part that he'd need to unwind his legs, and add some speed, and fast—his father was fast... he could practically feel him breathing down his neck!

Bile made it to the bridge first; he ran across it then turned around—his father, who had been following close behind him, received a shocking surprise soon after. Bile's hand became fisted, then his arm was pulled back; Master Vile saw stars, then felt a bit dizzy, then felt the odd sensation of falling after the fist collided with his jaw. The unnamed creek that flowed under the bridge was his landing place.

Kuruk, having seen what his grandson had done to his father, ran forward fully intending on both capturing the boy and then giving him a good talking-to on respect; Bile, in response, swung low. His fist collided with his grandfather's stomach; his grandfather landed on his rump a second later, he tasted blood after his teeth clamped down on his tongue. Lhaklar jumped over the man, then ran over to Bile, who he grabbed and then tugged along. The two ran off with Tazir and Cheshire following behind them; Duru stopped only long enough to check on his son—he chanced a two second reprieve to look down at the creek after seeing that his son was fine. After seeing that Master Vile was okay, and that he was getting out of the creek, he took off after the two boys.

"Taught my old man a lesson," Bile said to his brother, who was running alongside him. "Punched him right over the bridge into the creek. He'll not mess with me again."

"Don't be but so sure of that, Bile." Lhaklar cautioned. "Remember, he kept going after mom after she kept fighting, beating, and escaping him. He might do the same with you."

They ran for a short stretch of ten or so feet before Lhaklar slipped and fell shoulder first to the tracks; he skidded along a short ways—the hard steel tracks, which were pretty rusty and dirty, caused the skin of his already ravaged arm, and of the shoulder of his ravaged arm, to scrape away right after he fell. After falling, then skidding, he found himself with an even bigger problem—worse even than his mother getting on him about his wrecked body and clothes. His father got to him, then grabbed him up by his shoulders, then "threw" him over to the man that he still didn't know the name of—this man grabbed him by the arms, pulled him in tight, then gave the extremities that he had hold of a good squeezing; it was this action alone that caused him to dislike him. This man, who had dark blue skin, and almond-shaped, bronze-colored eyes, and who wore a monocle over his left eye, was acting much like Baruk and Gaajah had when they had been beating up on them two kids.

Bile, when he saw that his brother wasn't at his side, put on the brakes then turned around. By the time he did DuruVile had already run up. Duru stayed back; he gave the youngster that was caught some space and he let the father of the youngster check him over.

"Nothing broken," TazirVile said. "nothing but skin anyways."

"He looks quite a bit like you, Tazir." Cheshire said. "Strong—look at these arms. He's got his muscles flexed to max in trying to get away."

"And that's not good—he shouldn't be trying to get away." DuruVile said. "He does know who you are, right? See any recognition in his eyes?"

"I see plenty of recognition in his eyes. He _knows_ who _I_ am." TazirVile said.

"You sure? Take a d—"

"Look here old man! I don't care if he has recognition or not; he's my son and he's coming home with me!" TazirVile snapped, then added, "He, Bile, and their mother. Speaking of which, where is the fine l—"

Bile rushed in just as Lhaklar swung the arm that Cheshire had just loosened his grip on; Tazir fell back at once—the punch given to him caused him to see stars and to feel disoriented. Lhaklar's punch had a sizzling effect; Tazir's jaw throbbed then went to sleep—it would be sore the next morning, but he'd not mind it at all. He'd see the soreness, and the bruise, as a sort of memento to what had happened.

When Bile reached the area where his captured brother was, he wasted no time in getting nasty with the ones who were holding Lhaklar at bay. He swung at Cheshire three times—the man fell to his rump after the third swing struck him on the side. After downing the man that was his adoptive grandfather, Bile next turned his attention to Duru, who was rushing towards him.

DuruVile swung his fists five times; he caught Bile on the back twice, then in the ribs twice, then in the face—he had just reeled his fist back from giving the final blow when Bile's own fist was seen as rushing towards him. He saw nothing but black after the fist went into his right eye; soon after being punched, he lost his footing. He crashed to the train tracks like a sack of potatoes.

With himself free, Lhaklar ran off; his brother followed closely behind him. They ran off towards the shield, then went through it, then continued on to the train yard. Only after reaching the train yard did they stop; both looked at one another before bursting into a gale of laughter—though, at the moment, their laughs were unknown to them, they'd soon to come to know them as the laughs that came from one's who had bested men who were both older, stronger, and more experienced than they.

" _That_ was _movie_ material!" Bile exclaimed. "Bile Vile and LhaklarVile Surfeit beat their old man's, sent a few others to the curb, then got away. Yowsa yowsa woo woo!"

"Did you see my father's face!" Lhaklar sang. "Did you? Did you see his face after I punched him. Pow! Wow, I got punched by my son. What was that? Oh, it was my son's minty green fist rushing into my jaw. Hope he saves some for supper—I gave him a good swing."

"That one guy took a few good punches from me; he needed one of them comic sounds as he fell on his back then slid down the hill." Bile made some comical sounds—the ones that had been used in them old, 1970's to 1990's cartoons where the character fell from the steel bar of an incomplete, skeletal building that he didn't know he was walking on. "That other guy got me good in the back and ribs, but I still took good care of him—Bile-Style, baby! We need to pair up, Bro. We need to create a wrestling team, L. The Fabulous Bile Vile and his little bro, The Quick Lhaklar... we need to—"

At that precise moment, a whistle blew; usually, there was a security officer on the grounds—they thought that it was he who was blowing his whistle at them; he sometimes patrolled the yard... keeping the hobos at bay and running off the kids who decided to wander in for either "souvenirs" or for a thrill or two. They were about to run off when they saw the engine of a train pulling towards them; they got out of the way then watched as it chugged by—it went slowly, so they were able to take in its blue and silver coloring, and its many windows and few passengers. The caboose, or final car, of the train was just going by when a man, wearing a blue and silver uniform, and matching hat, rushed out of the car's door. He yelled at them, then threw four crates from the car's back.

The four crates bounced twice, then slid to a stop—when they stopped, they were near to where their feet were. Lhaklar saw that one was moving; he heard clicking sounds from the box nearest him. Bile nudged the box near him; it did nothing. It stayed still, and there were no sounds coming from it—still, though, he did detect the smell of fish coming from it.

Lhaklar was in the process of bending down to examine the crate that the clicking noises were coming from when the uniformed man threw two more boxes from the train's final car; after doing that, he started hooping and hollering. The man was drunk, there was no doubt on that; the two of them had just looked up when he started shouting at them, and the sky, like a madman.

"Take them crates to your ma, boys. Compliments of Blue Rail Four. Compliments of the Sea, the Air, and the fucking sweat, blood, and breath of the men and women who live out on the sea for long months with their fishing poles hangin' over their boats. Aaaahwoooogaaah!"

"Humans, when they're drunk, do some of the most weirdest of things." Lhaklar said. The train had gone off a ways, but the man was still yelling at them. The man was starting to give him the creeps.

"Yeah well, these crates give us an opportunity though." Bile said as he picked up and then placed two of the crates on top of the one that was nearest him.

"What's that?"

"Slip in through the window of Hazaar and Lazeer's bedroom, shower real quick, throw away the clothes that we're wearing, then plop these puppies in front of ma. Her looking through these, doing her ooo's and ahhh's, will give us some time to think up a story on what we did today. She'll sure ask us what we've been up to." Bile said as he picked the three stacked crates up.

"She'll find out, she always does." Lhaklar said. "She's our mother, after all."

"Pick up the crates then follow me." Bile said. "Play it cool. Be cool."

"You really _are_ a bad influence, Bile." Lhaklar said. He piled up the crates nearest him, then picked them up, then followed his brother, who was heading towards home.


	18. Chapter 18

Though he loved her like crazy, he was careful around her during the early morning hours—it wasn't because he was afraid of her, or because he was too sleepy, or lazy, to go up to her and say _gooood moooornin' ma._ His careful antics, and slow morning approach, was mostly done because, on some nights, she didn't get in a good sleep—on some mornings, she was very groggy, and didn't need, or want, everyone to be throwing themselves at her all at once. As of the last few weeks, she had been on and off her sleep; she had things bogging her down... things that were causing her concern—where the money was coming from for Lazeer's goggled glass was the biggie on her list of Concern items; what the next paycheck was going towards, both bill and food-wise, was what came next on her list. Ma did what she could to keep everyone happy—food for the cabinets was bought, the bills were either paid on time or a little after the due-date arrived; their allowances were only given to them after them two items were taken care of. A mass majority of the time, it was them who worried about their personal interests; ma would, on occasion, when money was available to be used more freely, go out to get them some model to build, or a surprise magazine, or a new pair of pants or some shirts to take place of the ones that were getting a bit "too used".

He and Lhaklar had slipped into the apartment through the window that looked out from Hazaar and Lazeer's bedroom; luck had been on their side—no one had been in the room at the time of their homecoming. They had slipped the crates in, then they had carried them into the kitchen before heading upstairs to shower. Their many injuries had been looked at, then treated medically, then wrapped. Ma had come in from work right when they had been entering the kitchen; she had taken one look at them before rushing over to give them one of them "mother examinations".

The story had been fast in being told; Lhaklar had said that they had gotten into a fight—one of them types where one brother got too rough, or too angry, and the present brother fought him in his own defense. Their mother, who had been giving them one of them looks, had asked if they had learned anything from their little fight before sighing and then going on to get supper started. They had said that they had then they had gone to help her in getting the steaks ready for cooking and the potatoes ready for boiling.

While they had been helping their mother in getting supper ready for cooking, he had admitted to it being he who had started their fight; he had given Lhaklar his apology for the fight, and for the injuries that he had inflicted on him, then he had gone back to peeling the potatoes. Lhaklar, as expected, had come back with saying _if you wasn't one who thought the things said to you were worse than they really were you'd be better off_ and _if you didn't let things get to you like they do you would be fine_. He had responded by telling him to shut up—ma had reacted by telling the both of them to shut up afterwards.

"Think some good Samaritan dropped by sometime today, mom." Lhaklar had said right before their mother had taken the wrap from the package that the steaks were in. "When we came in, there were six crates sitting on our doorstep."

"Really? What was in them?" ma had asked.

"Not sure—we just brought them in then set them down."

"Where are they?" ma had asked. The package of steaks, which had five slabs of good-sized meat in it, had, at that moment, been temporarily forgotten.

"Under the table." he had said.

He had retrieved the crates; each had been placed on the kitchen table, then their mother had gone forward to open and then examine their contents.

The first crate had contained nothing more than clothes in it—imagine that! Clothes... and all that could fit him and his brothers to boot. The second crate had women's clothes in it—their mother had gushed over all that had been in that crate—while the third and fourth crate had shoes in them—some that were their size and some that were not; they weren't fretting over the shoes that couldn't be worn. The shoes that they couldn't wear, their ma had said, could be sold, or given to someone that needed them. Crates five and six had nothing but food in them—ma had more than squealed after opening the fifth crate; six lobsters, all with their pinchers rubber banded, had been in that crate. Around ten or so male, ocean-phase, sockeye salmon had been in the final crate; two blocks of Cheddar cheese, a block of ham, and three loafs of cinnamon bread had been on top of the fish—the man who had thrown all of the crates from the train's caboose had really done a number in "looking out" for them and their family.

"Put them steaks up, Lhaklar. We'll be eating good for a few days, my dear, baby boys." ma had said after opening them two crates.

The steaks had been put away; the potatoes had still been peeled and then boiled; at the last moment, ma had made the decision to get Hazaar to throw together a family-sized salad. Ma had done the honors in preparing and then cooking the lobsters—the smell, alone, had driven them about damn insane! Ma was a better than exceptional cook and the smell that had come from them cooking lobsters had told them that they were in for a better than fine meal—better even than what was served at them high-dollar seafood restaurants.

Lobster tail. Lobster legs. Bowls of Lobster innards... it had all been placed on the table at around nine, then ma had called everyone over; ma had been the one to start the meal off by taking the first of the five lobster tails up from their stationed plate. The kitchen table had looked like a disaster area in no time; Lazeer had perked up soon after taking in the spread that had been placed on the table—he had nearly gone back to being that of his old self last night. Jokes over how he was going to sneak into the kitchen after light's out to get the final lobster that had been cooked and then stored in the fridge for another day, and on how he was going to "steal" what remained of what had been cooked and then served to the family, and on how he was going to marry the sixth lobster had been said; Lazeer had even gone so far as to ask Lhaklar if he'd act as the marriage officiant of the wedding and if either he or Hazaar would be so kind as to act as his Best Man.

He and his brothers had laughed after he had started up on his jokes; the kid might by bogged down with his eye-issues but, when he was in an especially good mood, and then got going with his jokes, it was hard to stop him and to not laugh at all that came through his mouth.

Fresh-made lemonade, a bowl of half-ear corn, and buttered biscuits had also been made with their meal; after the meal was consumed, then everyone did their belching and then thanking of the chef, ma had gotten up to clean the table. Lhaklar and he had helped in doing that before being told to plant it—the two of them, along with Hazaar and Lazeer, who had been "too stuffed" to help in getting the table clean, had gawked at their mother before doing as they had been told to do. Ma had surprised them right after the table was clean, and the leftovers were put in bins and then stored in the fridge—a mouthwateringly delicious Raisin cake had been removed from the oven and then placed in the table's center. Lhaklar, who had put in a good squabble with Lazeer over who was to marry the lone-remaining lobster, had said that Lazeer could go on and marry the lobster; after seeing the cake, he had called dibs on marrying it. This "marriage claim" had caused a mild fight to happen between he and Hazaar—Lhaklar hadn't been the only one eyeing the cake last night.

Subjects such as who was going to act as the marriage officiant of the wedding, who was going to father mini-Raisin cakes with the cake, who was going to tell Lazeer's lobster-wife that he was cheating on her with the cake, and on how they were going to break it to ma about her having lobster and Raisin cake grandkids had been spoken of; they had spent around an hour and a half at the table, stuffing their faces, and enjoying the good air that had been around them, before getting up and then dispersing in different directions.

"Not sure who drove who out of their rooms last night—we were all doing the crazy-farting thing soon after hitting the sack." he thought as he went towards his mother, who was at the kitchen sink.

Their apartment wasn't one of them types that the top-notch actors and actresses lived in; while it was big enough to accommodate them, it wasn't one of them large, or overly spacious types. It was comfortable, a little tight sometimes, but filled with all the love that they needed and wanted to have.

There was a living room in the front; the broom closet, that was on the hallway that came off the foyer and the apartment's stairs, had been converted into being a normal closet right after they moved in—along with some of their coats, the vacuum, the carpet cleaner, the toilet paper, the AC/furnace filters, and two 4x4 boards were in there. The kitchen was adjacent the living room; the hallway, that one of the apartment's two bathrooms was on, and that Hazaar's and Lazeer's bedroom was on, and that the back door was on, ran off it.

The bedroom that Hazaar and Lazeer resided in was big enough to accommodate them and only them—their mother had been perfectly fine with that. She hadn't had a desire for them to be constantly bumping into one another, or for them to be fighting over who all had touched their stuff, or to cry or complain about their rooming space being too small. His and Lhaklar's room was the same size as theirs; it was upstairs, at the far end of the hall—the upstairs bathroom was near to where the stairs ended. Their mother slept in the living room—the sleeper sofa, which was a dark blue color, and which had been made out of velor, was what she slept on. Over the last four years, he and his brothers had been trying to get her to not sleep on the thing; they worried about the item's springs hurting her back and they worried that it might cause her to lose her sleep. Both Lhaklar and Hazaar had offered her their bed; though thankful over the offer, she always refused to take it on—she was always saying for them to keep their beds whenever the offer was placed on the table.

The carpet throughout the entire apartment was cream in color; the walls were a light brown color, as was the ceiling. The kitchen and bathrooms had light blue, diamond-shaped, vinyl on their floors. He and his brothers were all grateful for there being two bathrooms in the place; there need not be any fighting, lines, or traffic jams in the house for one to use the bathroom.

After entering the kitchen, then stopping to take in the smell of pancakes that was wafting around, he went to his mother. She looked a bit cold to him; along with wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, a purple blouse, that had a ruffled neckline, and blue slippers, she was also wearing a blue robe. Due to the robe's top being down to her elbows, he was able to take in her shirt; seeing her wearing such an item, and knowing that she was only wearing it because she was cold, made him want to do the living room and sofa-destroying thing—it got cold in the living room sometimes, and she only had two blankets, and a single pillow, to sleep with. She was really taking a risk in catching a cold.

After reaching the area where the sink was, he stopped then stretched his hand towards her; when his hand landed on her shoulder, his mother stopped doing what she was doing then looked up. So far so good—if his mother was groggy, and didn't want to be messed with, she would of told him to scram. After seeing the sign of things looking to be good with her, he went forward; he wrapped his arms around her, then gave her one of them hugs that he reserved just for her.

"My goodness Bile! Your hugs keep getting warmer with each giving." his mother said.

"Please promise that you'll turn the radiator heater on tonight ma," Bile said. His mother was really cold—that gave him further incentive to be worried about her. "You're cold, ma. I'm afraid that you'll get sick."

"Oh you hush," his mother said. "I'll put it on tonight—forgot to last night."

"You say that every morning!" Bile whined. "I'll put it on for you—that way you won't have to worry about it."

"That's so sweet of you, I have it though. Don't you worry any on me."

"I love you." he beamed with pride inside; he felt all warm and toasty after saying them very truthful words.

"I love you too," his mother said. "Is Lhaklar up?"

"His alarm went off just as mine did."

"Hazaar and Lazeer?"

"I have no idea."

"Go check on them for me, please." his mother gave him a gentle push in the direction of his little brothers' room. "Be nice, Bile. Remember, it's eight in the morning."

"I will, mama."

He went down the hall that came off the kitchen; soon after reaching the door that went to his little brothers' room, he noticed that both were up but that only one was about.

Hazaar and Lazeer slept on single beds, the same as he and Lhaklar did; like with his and Lhaklar's beds, their beds were positioned against the room's opposite walls. The two dressers that the two used were in the center of the room; their backs were pressed up against one another—he thought that this was unique; he had never seen one have their dressers arranged like this before. Model planes, spaceships, and dinosaurs either littered the top of their dressers or hung from the ceiling; there was a single alarm clock, a normal one, that had glow-in-the-dark numbers on it, on Lazeer's dresser—both of his younger brothers used it to ensure waking on time each morning.

Hazaar had already gotten dressed, and was on his way out when he walked in. There was nothing said between them; Hazaar was one who was quiet in the mornings. During the early morning hours, he was a bit moody—he liked to be left alone for thirty minutes to an hour after getting up from bed.

Lazeer, despite being up and dressed, had climbed back into bed; he had been doing this for the last few hundred years. The kid was really depressed; all of them, Lhaklar especially, were worried about him. The issue with his left eye had been noticed almost immediately after he turned six hundred and fifty-nine; he had trooped through the years with it but, as of the last two hundred and two years, he had been growing more and more depressed about it. He couldn't be normal; he couldn't do the activities that he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar did each day; he couldn't follow them outside, or bug them apey, or even make friends. It was either he had to stay inside during the daytime hours or he went out and hid under a tree, or the shadows; he hated it, they hated it, their mother hated it... the sad part of all of this was the fact that none of them could really be a help to him. They were there to support him, yes, but they couldn't do anything to make him feel better or to make his issue disappear.

After entering the room, then walking by Hazaar, he went and sat at the foot of his brother's bed. His hand was stretched towards the bulge that, he hoped, was his brother's shoulder after he sat down.

"Go away please." his brother said after he shook his shoulder.

"Ma wants you in the kitchen. Breakfast." Bile said.

"Tell her to make a delivery."

"I will not!" Bile grabbed the bed's blankets and sheets then tore them back; Lazeer grumbled, then growled a little, then shot up. He grabbed, and then threw his bedding back over him. "Ma says for you to get your blue ass in the kitchen."

"I'm not getting up."

"Yes you are." Bile said.

"Why should I eat when I don't exist? Only the shadows and trees know who I am, no one else knows who I am." Lazeer moped. "Lemme alone!"

"Ma and Lhaklar are working hard to get you your glass," Bile said. Which was true—they were doing all that they could to get the funds together for his glass. "It'll only be a little while longer."

"That's what she said the last time."

"Lazeer! Ma and Lhaklar will get the cash together! You will get your glass!"

Even though their mother wasn't one to leave the house at midnight, she had made a special point in doing so on the fourteenth of August; Albany, New York was where she had gone... one of the payphones in the one of the area's still-operational subway stations had been re-wired, then tested, then one by the name of Navub Babusa had been called and then questioned.

She had been required to put down a payment of $100 for the next to final appointment that Lazeer had gone to; the guy that they had seen had had a lot of guts to charge her that amount, and to charge her for the drops that he had given her after the "torture-testing", as Lazeer had called it, had been done. Mr. Babusa had said for her to bring his brother in right after being called; his appointment charge had been free, and he had been more than nice to the two of them. Unlike the last man that the two had seen, who had been fast in seeing them and then in getting rid of them, Mr. Babusa had done his job slowly, efficiently, and he had also given them some kind words. Mr. Babusa's charge of $2100 seemed a bit steep to them, but it was far better than the ridiculous amount of $3250.75 that the former Optometrist had given them.

Lazeer had been thrilled after learning of the appointment, and that the Optometrist wasn't one who took advantage of his customers; he had started acting like his old self again... had started making plans on what he was going to do after getting his glass, and he had started cranking out the jokes like crazy. After learning what the man charged for his prescription glasses, Lazeer had gone back to being depressed again; he, like all of them, knew that that was a better price than the former guy's own but he had also known that it'd be a while before he finally got what he needed to have.

Ma, right after seeing how depressed he was, had started taking him on small trips to the planet that the final optometrist appointment had been held on; the two had simply walked around, had seen a few things, had gone into a few buildings, or had visited a few parks, then had returned. Lhaklar had gone on two of the trips that they had taken to Zeta Ren; he had done as they had during both of them trips.

Lazeer had gotten quite a little scare during one of the trips that he had taken to Zeta Ren; a fellow, who their mother had explained as being a relative of theirs, and a fellow that they hadn't seen in a long time, had approached him with the question of whether he had been on the news lately. Lazeer, instead of answering the guy's question in a pleasant way, had yelled at him—had told him that he hadn't—then he had run off. Lazeer was now terrified in going anywhere else in the Universe—he feared that he was now being seen as a criminal; at the time of his running off from the fellow who had asked him if he had been on the news, he had had a magazine on him that hadn't been paid for.

Over the last few weeks, ma had been getting the one that they called Granny D to send her a newspaper or two from one of the other planets in the Universe; while Lazeer's running off with the magazine had been mentioned in the papers there had been no mention of his being looked at as a criminal, so he really didn't need to be but so stressed out over that. Quite interestingly, there were a lot of articles being put in the papers about their mother—even though he and his brothers hadn't been allowed to read the other-world newspapers that were sent to them they had been told of some of the things that had been put in them.

"Come on man! Get up—ma really wants you at the table, same as me. We're holding up breakfast."

"I'm not going."

"You're going if I have to tip the bed upside down! Get up!" Bile insisted.

"I'll throw acid on you if you try."

"Geeeeet up!" Bile grabbed his brother's bedding then tore it up and then off of him. "Up, up, up, Uuuuuhpuh!"

Lazeer sat upright; he glared at Bile, then jumped out of bed, then trudged out of the room. Bile made his brother's bed then followed behind him; he was able to get halfway down the hallway before being grabbed and then thrown to the wall—Lhaklar, who had had a decent night's sleep, like he, looked as if he had seen more than one ghost. His mint-green face was a little lighter in color; his Pistachio-colored eyes were wide and full of both shock and fear; and his hands, which were tightly wrapped around his shirt, were shaking ever so slightly. Bile was fast in falling under the impression that his brother had just caught wind of their mother knowing what they did when they were out of the house—that she knew of either his smoking weed, or of Lhaklar's habit of smoking cigarettes, or of their habits with the ladies in the nearby towns, or worse, of what Lhaklar's actual job was.

Bile slowly put his hands up; he tore his brother's hands off his shirt then he gently pushed him away. Before he could say anything, Lhaklar dropped a nice morning package of doom on his lap—this package, which was round in shape, but not very heavy, had a ticking time-bomb in it that was slowly counting away the minutes and seconds until their mother went boom with anger.

"Distract mom will ya? Granny D sent her two newspapers—there's an article on us on both of their front pages."

Distract mom? Er, no problem—though agreeing to do so, he knew that he might have a few issues in doing what he had been asked to do.

They went into the kitchen together; the two possibly incriminating newspapers were on the table, the bands that were around their middles were still intact so he knew that they hadn't been read yet.

Hazaar was seated in the chair that he usually sat in during meal-hour; his head was dipped slightly, the hint of sleep was still evident on his face. Lazeer was also in his stationed chair at the table; he was looking off in the distance at nothing in particular—regardless of it being a new day, it looked like he was going to try his best in acting as depressed as he could.

Lhaklar, when he had been a kid, had been able to snatch a newspaper with ease; he'd sometimes run up and grab the paper after it was in their father's hand and, sometimes, he'd even run up and grab the paper after it had been thrown on the table. A good chunk of the time, he'd take "refuge" in one of their old residence's many bathrooms to read what he had run off with. There had really been no contest; Lhaklar, back then, had always had first dibs on the reading of the paper. Their father, without fail, would ask him about the paper after he got to the table and then got himself situated in his chair—a lot of the time, the man would cup his head in his hand before asking this question; before giving the paper over, Lhaklar would always put his head down and then hunch his shoulders. Sometimes, he'd return the paper intact; other-times, the paper would be lacking a few pages, or the pages would need re-arranging—not once had he given a paper back that was ripped or torn or crumpled up.

That was then; after being relocated to Earth, then getting situated, he had tried to do that with ma—he had been fast in finding that he couldn't pull that routine with her. Ma was fast; ma knew that it was going to happen and, thus, prevented it from happening; and, of course, Lhaklar knew better than to run off with the paper—when she said for him to drop it, she meant it.

Drop the paper, gotcha ma! You read it first, I'll read it afterwards—that was how it was with the paper nowadays.

Bile, after entering the kitchen for the second time that morning, walked over to his mother; he stood beside her, swallowed once or twice, then started up a conversation.

"What'd the weatherman say this morning?" Lame! The question that he had asked was as lame as could be... but it was all that he could come up with at the moment.

"It'll be cloudy today—no rain in sight; a small window of sunshine will be experienced at around noon before the clouds return." his mother replied. "And you know what that means. Lazeer—" his mother turned, then looked at his little brother, who was slow in both turning and then looking at her. "—you are being kicked out of this house for a few hours. Go off and play with your brothers. Follow them around... bug 'em batty... scrape a knee or something. You're to not mope or sit and do nothing today."

"I'd prefer to stay home." Lazeer said pitifully.

"I'm to give Granny D a visit before heading in to work—this place will be locked tight. All of you boys are to be out of the house before I'm gone. Don't go anywhere near that camp—Bile, you hear me?"

"Yes, ma." Bile answered. "H-how is Granny D?"

"She's doing well—sends her love, as always. She'll be coming over one day next week to see you four."

"Thanks for the warning. I'll make sure to have my cheeks of steel on." Hazaar said.

"She'll still get through them," Lazeer said. Before a come-back could be said, he said, "She only pinches your cheeks because you're so darn cuuuuute."

"Lay off, Mohawk!" Hazaar snapped.

"I love my Mohawk, Tail-Boy!" Lazeer shot. "Or did you lop off the purple tail? Spent a lot of time in the bathroom last night."

"I had... problems that needed... tending to." Hazaar said awkwardly.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright boys, that's enough. Do all of that outside. Lazeer, I'm serious now—everyone will be home-less for eight hours." their mother said. She went back to making the plates for a few seconds before stopping and then saying, "Lhaklar, you touch them papers and you'll be walking around with stubs for hands."

Bile was thinking the same as his brother was when they were taking their seats at the table: time to write up the obituaries; time to pick out the grave markers; time to dig the dirt and make their graves; time to pick the coffins and final suits. They were dead; it was hopeless now.

Their mother placed plates of blueberry pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast in front of them; after taking her own plate from the counter-top, she took her place at the table then started eating. She took a bite or two of her eggs then reached for one of the papers; Lhaklar was fast in grabbing the paper that was closest to him, which, he was fast in finding out, was a big no-no.

Their mother glared at him, cleared her throat, then held her hand out; Lhaklar was stuck in a corner... he was backed up... the net had just been thrown over him. Bile's stomach went cold as he saw the paper being handed over; he nearly got sick after seeing that the rubber band of the paper that hadn't been snatched was being removed—the headline of the front page's first story said _Master Vile Declares Son Living_. He knew that his mother would be reading that and soon. Even though Hazaar and Lazeer were eating, they were looking back and forth between he and Lhaklar; they were wondering what was going on for them to be acting so off. Bile looked across the table at his brother—Lhaklar had the most defeated of looks on his face. The look that was on his brother's face would of been comical if he hadn't been wearing a similar one on his.

Seeing as he was to die soon, Bile took in the opportunity to look at his two, younger brothers. The brother that was to his left was five hundred years younger than he; even though he had a way of being a bit of a grump from time to time, and even though he had a way of being too hot-headed at times, he was a good kid. He had his moments of being funny, of being mean, and of driving one completely insane; Hazaar had been a hundred years old on the day that they had been whisked from the old home... he looked nothing of what he had been on that day.

His little brother had dark blue skin; his eyes, which were of the wrap-around sort, were a deep purple color. The tail of hair that he had been born with had, at one time in his life, been a quarter of a inch to an inch long; it was now four and a half inches long, two of its strands had been braided soon after his brother had gotten out of bed—how Hazaar managed to braid, or do anything with his hair, was beyond him. The only thing that was the same with his brother's hair was its color—the deep purple coloring was just as pure as could be.

"Genetics—good thing to think of before I'm killed and then buried. Ma says that it was the combination of her genes and Hazaar's, Lhaklar's, and Lazeer's father's genes that made Hazaar have dark blue skin and deep purple hair and eyes." he thought as he toyed with his breakfast. "Dad's skin color mixed with the color of ma's hair—that made Hazaar have purple eyes and hair. Dad's mother has dark blue skin, so that color's in his genome—he can make children who have dark blue skin, thanks to his mother having dark blue skin."

Hazaar was wearing a pair of multi-brown pants; the knees were slightly faded while the inner and outer thighs were greatly faded. The brown shirt that he was wearing was tucked in—he was always one for doing this with his shirts; none of them questioned or picked fun at him for doing so. The shoes that were on his feet were brown in color; even though the laces were a light brown color, they matched the shoes well.

After looking at Hazaar, Bile looked over at Lazeer; this brother of his, who was seated directly beside Lhaklar, had been born early... at five and a half months gestation. He had been a sick baby; he had been put in the NICU for three and a half weeks before being "allowed" to be taken home. Even though the doctors had said that he'd only live for a day or two after being brought home, and then that he'd be a small, weak thing after living past the first month of his being brought home, he wasn't—he was as healthy as could be.

Lazeer had barely had the strength to open his eyes when he had been brought home, and his movements had either been small or non-existent. Other than being born early, and still being a tiny thing after being allowed to come home, he had also been born bald—this they all found funny; he was no longer bald now. He now had a horizontal row of hair running around his head; it was about two inches wide, it was bristly in appearance, and it was a "dull" red color—it was really his hair that set him off as being their ma's son. He had inherited it from her and, although it wasn't fiery, or glowing like their ma's was, it wasn't fully dull by any means.

While Hazaar was five foot, eleven inches tall, Lazeer was six feet tall. Hazaar had a hard as steel type of body—it was very lean, but packed with naturally gotten muscle. Lazeer also had a lean body build to him; all of the muscle that he had on him was natural—like the rest of them, he had gotten his muscle the right way: by using the environment around him, and by being careful in what all he decided to use during his work-out routines.

Lazeer was wearing his favorite outfit: the pair of dark gray pants, that was worn over his bottom half, were ripped at the knees; the netted shirt that was over his top half was dark red in color; the shoes that were on his feet were multi-brown and gray in color, the laces that were on them were a dark gray color.

Bile was glad that this brother of his had survived his chaotic birth and first few hundred years of life; he gave all of the credit to this survival to his mother—if not for her, and her good, natural milk, and her fine mothering skills, he'd not be sitting at the table, or eating breakfast, with them.

"Where'd you two go yesterday?" their mother asked. The paper wasn't opened; she had the front page up... she was reading it. "Where'd you two have your big, brother brawl again?"

"B-behind the deserted McDonald's." Bile said, then swallowed hard.

"Really, huh. You two sure you wasn't outside of the shield... or in an area that I've told you to not be in or anywhere near?"

"Busted! Ha ha!" Hazaar cheered loudly.

"Now I AM glad I got out of bed!" the corners of Lazeer's O-shaped mouth were curved sharply towards the ceiling—he was smiling one of them sick smiles.

"Mom... I—"

"You deliberately disobeyed me!"

Lhaklar looked up and then at his brother, who looked like he was about to start crying. Their mother was rambling on and on; saying how disappointed she was in him over his not obeying her orders in staying in the shield, and in not going near the camp that had been set-up a few days ago. Their mother got on them pretty hard sometimes, but it was all done in the correct sense—she would never get on them for something that they didn't deserve to be gotten on for, and she would never say that she was disappointed in them for no reason. She got on them when they needed to be gotten on; her chiding was always done because she loved them and didn't want them to be hurt or carted off to a place where she'd never see them again. She wasn't one of them parents who got on their kids for no reason; she never used sticks or belts and she never insulted. She always used the word disappointed with them; she never called them names, or stupid, or idiots, or fools. She never got on them about their lifestyles, or about the way they acted.

He was much like Bile—he loved his mother with all of his heart; words just couldn't describe how much he loved her. He gave her as much respect as he could and he did his best to be good and be on her good side. Their mother was always there for them; always there to talk to, to get them and their problems squared away, and always there to comfort them when something went or was wrong. Like Amadh Ubalki, his uncle, who he had yet to meet in person, and who he barely remembered, he, and all of his brothers, saw her as the greatest mother a child could ever have.

The paper that he had picked up, only to have to give over to his mother, had come from a planet called Tesposie; the other had come from Gamma Vile. The paper from Gamma Vile had been opened; the front-page article, which, he guessed, mentioned only Bile in it, had been read. She was mostly getting on Bile now instead of the both of them. Some brothers would just sit back and smile; letting the older brother take all of the rap and flap. He wasn't like that at all; when something came up, where he was a participant, or that he was a witness, of, he didn't just leave the brother that he had been with hanging. He cleared his throat then spoke.

"It wasn't just him, mom." he said. "I-I was there too."

"Mom's about to hit the roof, RUN!" Hazaar sang loudly.

"Pardon me?" their mother said. She looked over at Lhaklar, gave him one of them serious looks, that just about chilled him to the core, then she looked over at Bile, who was staring at his plate of forgotten food.

"I was with Bile. It wasn't just him that—"

"Young man!"

"He followed me," Bile said. He was trying to both take the full blame of what their mother had read and defend his brother. "He... he followed me to the camp—he wanted to see where I was going."

"You two could of been killed!" their mother screamed. She threw the paper that she had in her hand at Bile, who turned at just the right second to avoid its amount of papers hitting him in the face—instead of hitting him in the face, they hit him on the shoulder. "You two got involved in a fight in the camp didn't you? Who hurt you? Which one was it that touched you?"

"No one, mama." Bile said.

"Don't you lie to me!" their mother yelled. "You both came home all busted up—all bruised, and with more than enough cuts to be bandaged up. Which one in that c—"

"It wasn't one of the adults, mom. It was one of the kids." Lhaklar said.

Lhaklar spilled his guts on what happened yesterday; he confirmed what Bile had said in his following him, then he said that, after he caught up to him, then said that he was going to turn him into the "law", he had seen his father and decided to stick around—he put forth the claim that he had grown curious and that his curiousness had caused him, and his better senses, to go awry. He ran off a list of names—which consisted of his father's, his paternal grandfather's, his uncle's, Master Vile's, and so on and so forth—before getting to the part where he and Bile had made the trip to Expedition Island. It was here that he started reeling out the story on what they had seen happen between Baruk, Gaajah, Homsi, and the two other kids; he told this part of his tale quickly—his mother was steaming mad. Her fiery red hair looked like fire, and her emerald-green eyes were very ablaze with the anger that was coursing through her veins; it was only after he told of how he and Bile had left their hiding place behind the bush to confront Baruk and Gaajah on their bullying of the two kids, and of Homsi, that she calmed down.

She looked at him with a soberness that was almost comforting; it calmed both he and his brother from their near-heart attacks, and it allowed their cold stomachs to warm up a few degrees. Hazaar and Lazeer had leaned back in their chairs; Hazaar had his arm around the back of his chair while Lazeer was just looking on in a sort of sick amusement. Like with he or Bile, they enjoyed the spectacle of when one or another of them were getting the books through at them. All four of them had their moments when their mother had to put them in their place, and of when she was expressing her fears of their pushing the envelope in their travels, or the "adventures" that they went out on when they left the house after eating breakfast.

He finished telling the tale of what happened yesterday quickly then looked down at his plate; his hands were folded on his lap, and his feet felt right cold and heavy to him. He, at the moment, felt so little and weak and, really, so did Bile, who was currently looking at his feet.

"I see." their mother said after two minutes passed. "So, Bile went off when Baruk and Gaajah attacked two youngsters, who were much younger than they?"

"Yes, mom. I tried to hold him back but—" Lhaklar started to say.

"All of your cuts, bruises, and scrapes came from Baruk and Gaajah?" their mother asked.

"Yes, mom."

"The story that I just got through reading in one of the papers that I was sent earlier this morning has nothing of them in it." their mother said. "It just says that Bile was seen, and that he was violent before escaping to the shield of a town that's near to where the altercation occurred."

"It's true, m-m-ma." Bile stammered. He felt embarrassed for stammering but what could he do—he was near to crying. "B-Baruk was hurting them two kids—he was punching, pushing, kicking, and picking up and throwing them two kids around. The Goblin... we thought that he'd get a handle on the situation—after he showed up, we thought that Baruk would back down. He didn't, ma. He was just not able to get him to leave the two of them alone. Gaajah joined up with him quickly. I ran—"

"We," Lhaklar was quick in correcting.

"We ran in just before Baruk could go after one of the little kids with the Goblin's belt." Bile finished.

"Baruk was always one for bullying, so was Gaajah." their mother sighed. "I suppose that they all saw you—not just the Goblin, or... my and Bile's father."

"Yes," Lhaklar nodded his head in despair; he got ready for the tongue lashing, grounding, and then possible dish toweling.

To their great surprise, nothing happened. No tongue lashing happened; no week to two week long punishment of grounding was given out; and the dish towel remained on the bar that was on one of the kitchen cabinet doors. Their mother said no more on the issue; she went back to her breakfast—they, in a lot of ways, took their cue from her in doing the same. They ate slowly, and nervously, before getting up to put the dishes in the sink; Bile tried the tip-toe routine after finishing his breakfast while Lhaklar tried to become an invisible person after putting his dishes in the sink. Before either of them could "slip" upstairs, or attempt to leave the apartment, their mother cleared her throat—this was done only when she wanted them to remain in the room; if they did so after that throat-clearing was done, they'd be in dire trouble—double-time with being grounded, or double-time with being whapped with the dish towel, or receiving another round of being yelled at, or a good lot of chores being given out... that was what they'd get if they left the room, or the apartment, after she did the throat clearing thing.

Bile and Lhaklar turned together; they felt defeated, drained of all emotions, and it felt like their pride's had taken more than a single beating. Hazaar and Lazeer both turned; although they hadn't been the ones that had gotten yelled at, they also acted in the submissive mode. If all four of them had been born with tails, they would of been tucked deeply between their legs—as it was, Bile felt as if his ears had drooped low on him.

"Now, I don't blame you two for wanting to help in getting Baruk and Gaajah under control, or in helping that Goblin and them two, little kids." their mother said. "While I'm glad that you two helped in the situation I'm also not glad that you went and disobeyed my instructions, so..."

Here it came—the punishment for the disobeying was about to be given out. What would it be? Would they be told to wash and then wax the kitchen floor, or to use the vacuum on all of the apartment's carpet; would they be told to grab the ladder from storage and then use it to check on the gutters, and then clean the gutters if they found them to be clogged or dirty; would they be told to do inventory on what all they needed for the cabinets; or would they just plain be grounded for two weeks? For them, the list went on and on; the two of them looked down at the floor soon after realizing that they were to be given a sort of punishment for their disobeying actions.

"Bile, you do the grass—front, back, sides, and clip the grass down around the edges of the apartment. After you do that, grab a bucket and some soap—I want the outside walls of the apartment to be as clean as a whistle when I get back."

"Yes ma." Bile said. He was thinking that this lot of chores was better than being chased around by the world's biggest dish towel.

"Lhaklar, there are two big trees in the backyard. You get them down—no gloves allowed."

"Yes mom." Lhaklar winced; he had a feeling that he'd have some very raw hands at the end of the day, but, like Bile, he was glad that he wasn't getting dish toweled, or being grounded for two or more weeks.

"Hazaar, Lazeer, you two head out. The doors will be locked today. Pester your brothers while they're busy. Do it good now."

"Yes momma." Hazaar said. He smiled at Bile, who he automatically claimed as his for the pestering that day.

"Can do." Lazeer said. He elbowed Lhaklar's ribs; he had automatically claimed him for the day's pestering.

"You four be good while I'm away." their mother said. She got her things, then escorted them out of the apartment; the front door was closed, then locked behind her right after Lazeer was out of the way. After the door was closed, and then locked, she started down the sidewalk.

"We will." they all promised at once.


	19. Chapter 19

Eshal did what she could on the three days that followed the dual-sighting of Bile and Lhaklar—listening to the music that she had brought along, watching the movies that she had brought along, cleaning a few areas of the ship that really didn't need to be cleaned, writing in her diary, and, of course, keeping up and keeping an eye on the younger kids... since she was still a kid herself, and didn't know, or have, the skills in that area, the latter task had been a difficult one for her to do.

Her father had woke up on the morning following the surprise sighting of her two brothers with a very swollen, sore, and well-bruised jaw—he was telling everyone who asked that he was proud to have it, and that it was a sort of "memento", or something that told him that all of what had happened wasn't a dream. The bruise, her father also said, was also proof of how healthy her younger brother was— _one who wasn't healthy wouldn't cause this much damage_ , he had said to her grampa, and to one of her uncles, two days ago.

The guy who was her father's nephew, and who was her cousin—Vile—, had also woke to finding himself as having a "memento" to what happened three days ago. From his temple on down to the left side of his chin was a bruised mess; unlike her father, who was taking his bruised jaw with good humor, he was angry over receiving his injury. The man claimed that he had plans to give his son—Bile—a lecture on how one regarded their elders and on how one of his age shouldn't be throwing his fists so freely.

Her paternal grandfather had surprised her; she had expected for him to be angry over Bile's actions in fighting him, and in causing his whole face to become bruised, and for causing a vessel in his right eye to burst—Granddaddy Duru was acting like his facial injuries were no big deal, and he was actually throwing out a few jokes on how his face looked and on how he couldn't see but so well out of his right eye.

Uncle Kuruk had also given her a bit of a surprise three days ago—he was expressing a bit of a temper towards Bile, who had punched him hard enough to cause a minor puncture of his spleen and liver. Uncle Kuruk's internal injuries had been tended right after they returned to camp; a good sleep, a good meal, and some peace and quiet had been "prescribed" to him—he had done all of that with no fuss at all.

While she had seen all of what had happened on the island three days ago she had stayed out of it—though the urge to go forward and tell the two bullies to lay off the two kids that they had targeted had had her in its grip she hadn't had a desire to get into trouble or become involved in what was happening. In her mind, the two of them—Baruk and Gaajah—had gotten what they deserved; right after getting back from chasing down, and then losing, Bile and Lhaklar, the two, misbehaving kids had been marched into their parents' respective ships. No one had seen hide or hair of them for two days—upon exiting their ships that early morning, they had looked a bit cautious of going anywhere near their fathers, which was why she thought that they had been given some sort of discipline after being retrieved and then taken to the area where their parents were stationed at.

Qhuakiz had been treated of his numerous injuries; his small face had been washed, then some Swell-B-Gone cream had been applied to the areas where it had been swollen, then an application of Bru-Cream, which was a blue cream that aided one in getting rid of their bruises faster, had been put on his face. The two creams had done wonders—the many bruises that had been on Qhuakiz's face had all but disappeared in two hours time. The cuts that he had received were still there, yes, but the bruises were nearly gone; her grandparents had carried him around for hours after getting him back into the ship—not once had they put him down or allowed for another to come up to take him from them.

As far as she knew, Trobrencus and Bahne had done the same with their son—upon exiting the ship that his father owned and used, Impub had looked fine; a few bruises had still been on his face, and he had still had a few cuts on him, but he had looked well.

"Kaasa let my father use his Telepathy on her a few hours after everyone got back to camp," she thought as she left the chamber that she had been appointed to use during their—her, her father, her aunt, and her grandparents and their children—tenure on the planet.

After being flattened to his back, and then deprived of Mr. Modulavich's belt, Baruk had gotten up and then charged at Bile; he had no more done this before eating grass—Bile had crouched low, then had jumped to the side, then had swiped his arm at Baruk just before he had reached him. A fierce fight had happened between the two of them after Baruk had gotten to his feet; punches, kicks, one or the other being thrown around, and the such had been delivered between the both of them. She had come to believe that Bile was over his head during the fight—Baruk had looked much more surely than he on a few occasions, and a few of Baruk's punches had caused the fight to tip in his favor. Quite surprisingly, Baruk had been sent flying twice after getting two punches to the chest and then chin—she remembered seeing him flying two feet once, and she remembered him getting up and then rushing back into the fight almost immediately after colliding with the ground.

She had winced after remembering how Baruk had gotten the cut that went over his left eye; Bile had swung at him right after he had charged back into the fight and, instead of ducking, or jumping back to miss the hit, Baruk had run right into it. Baruk was really lucky to still have his left eye—thanks to Kaasa's memory being shown to everyone in camp, they had all been able to see that one of Bile long, dark yellow fingernails had come within a small fraction of an inch from going into his eye.

Lhaklar, quite surprisingly, hadn't been an active participant of the fight's first quarter—for the most part, he had been running after Bile, and telling him to stop and to get out of there. That had stopped after Gaajah had come up on him; Gaajah had grabbed her younger brother around the waist and then thrown him—he had still had his arms around him after throwing him, both she and her father believed that he had been trying to body-slam him and that he hadn't been able to do so because he didn't know how to do such a move. Lhaklar, after being thrown, had twisted his body around and then gone crazy on Gaajah. Lhaklar looked to be quite limber; they had seen him dodge more than half of Gaajah's punches and kicks and they had also seen him "step" out of the way when Gaajah had charged him. The small cut that Gaajah still had under his right eye had been caused by Lhaklar's action in dipping his body low and then swinging his fist up and then to the side—Lhaklar had done this move with such ease... it had been a big surprise to both her, her father, and everyone else in camp to of seen him use this move so easily.

The long cut on Lhaklar's left arm had happened after Gaajah grabbed him; Gaajah had been intending to grab and then either pin him down or throw him off balance—while his nails had dug in deep, and had caused enough damage to the arm that they had been dug into, he hadn't been able to do either.

Gaajah had been fast and steady on his feet during the fight; Lhaklar looked to have one of them quick bounce and slide movements to him—it really _did_ look like he had inherited their daddy's limberness.

Some talk had happened after the fight had been examined; the men and women had spoken on who's son was better, and who's son was worse, and who had the upper and lower hand, and so on. All of the adults had agreed that Bile had been in his element—all had said that he had looked evenly matched with Baruk. Surprisingly, there was a draw going on with Lhaklar; Gramma Ashaklar and Grampa Cheshire claimed that Lhaklar had looked in his element, and had looked very sure-footed and strong, while Granddaddy Duru had said that his son would of had a better fight if he had gotten a better hold on both the ground and on him. Grampy Shaam had said that he was on the fence about the two; he said that he thought that Bile was strong, but a bit stiff-acting, and he had also said that he wasn't so sure on Lhaklar looking in his element. Her father had been on Lhaklar's side; he had said that he was a very strong young man, and that he had looked to be in his element.

Ten minutes of talk on the fight had happened before they had all dispersed, going towards their respective camps and ships. Uncle Kuruk had gone to his ship to deal with his son while Granddaddy Duru had gone to his to deal with his son; Uncle Trobrencus, or Trob, as she and most of the other children called him, and his wife had gone off to deal with Impub.

"Cousin Vile was fast in saying that his son was alive—right after getting to his ship, he placed a call to his place; Bile's death certificate was ripped, and then burned, and the stone that stands over the grave that was meant for Bile was taken up." she thought as she continued down the hall. "The stone that stands over the grave that was meant for Lhaklar was also taken up."

Her mam's tombstone was still over the grave that had been designated as hers; until she was seen again, it wasn't known when it'd be taken up.

Newspaper articles had been written on what had happened; though some details had been left out, everyone knew that they had seen Bile and Lhaklar. As expected, an article had also been written up about who all was on Earth and on what they were all hoping to do during the stay here. All of her aunts, and their families, had teleported in with their things—everyone wanted to see Bile and Lhaklar and everyone wanted to be of some assistance in bringing them in. Gloar Rovnitov, her father's former classmate, and friend and neighbor, had also shown up; he, and his wife, Vixbie, had babysat all of them on the nights where her mam and daddy had gone out on a date, or when they were called away to attend an event that a male conqueror, and his wife, was invited to attend. Like her aunts and their families, Gloar had shown up with the interest in wanting to assist in bringing her brothers in and, of course, of wanting to see them.

Some of her aunts and uncles, their children, and their children's children, were staying with Grampy Shaam; others were staying in her daddy's ship. There were a few who were staying in Uncle Kuruk's ship too.

"Despite all the hooplah that's going on with my aunts, and Gloar, moving in, and with my brothers being seen, dad's still angry over what he had been told three days ago." she thought.

Zshon Zultoa, one of her father's butlers, had come up to tell him the results on what he and Losal had gotten after testing the cigarette-end that her father had found three days ago; DNA had been found as being on it and, quite surprisingly, that DNA had come from Lhaklar. Lhaklar, like Bile, was smoking. At two thousand, one hundred years of age, her baby brother was doing a habit that a grown man did. Her father had been fast in declaring that a sort of program would be applied to the two of them right after they were caught—a six-step program, used by people who were trying to kick the habit of smoking, but that would be more Dad Approved and Made instead of science and therapist approved and made, would be done on them.

Her father had been fast in describing this program to his mother and stepfather; she had been in the area so she had also heard what was in store for the two of them. First, her brothers would confess to smoking; the reason behind their taking up the habit would be expressed next then the order for them to stop, along with the confiscation of any smoke-related items that they had on them, would be done. The fourth and fifth step would be constant contact, support, and comfort during their withdrawal moments and... well, she hadn't heard what the sixth step to this program would be.

She guessed that this program was better than her father just blowing up in their faces—getting madder than a hornet—about it. This program was a lot better than what granddaddy Duru had said her father should "apply" to them—he said that her father should yell, cuss, and then slap them whenever the subject of smoking, or whenever the scent of smoke was noted on them, was brought up.

"He might yell at them, or cuff them on the wrist or something, but he wouldn't get but so mean on them about their bad habit-taking." she thought as she turned the corner.

After turning the corner, she came upon Homsi—the man, as a way to show good faith in her father, had allowed her father to take his memory of what had happened between he and Baruk and Gaajah; even though her father had already believed that he wasn't at full-fault for what happened, the Goblin had wanted to be sure that he, and everyone else, knew that his actions in protecting Qhuakiz were genuine. Even though she wouldn't say this out loud, she didn't think that her father would do more than snap at Homsi in the verbal sense, or give him a slap on the wrist, when it came to his doing something that he shouldn't of done—the two seemed to be quite chummy with one another, and Homsi was very loyal to her father, and to her.

She was just opening her mouth to speak to the Goblin when she noticed the thing that he had in his hand—Mr. Modulavich was using one of them new communicators; the kind that gave off an image of the one that was being spoken to and that also allowed the one who was speaking the opportunity to see what the one that he or she was talking to was doing during the conversation. Just from seeing the small image that was hovering over the holocom, she knew that he was talking to his wife.

After seeing this, she went down the hall then stopped; she leaned against the wall then waited for the man to end his conversation with his wife. Even though she could hear what the two were talking about, she stayed where she was and she spoke or thought none of what they were talking about—she gave the Goblin the space, and privacy, that he both needed and deserved to have.

"Miss. Eshal," Homsi said two minutes later, after shutting his holocom off and then walking over to her. "Is there something bothering you, or that you want of me to do?"

"You don't think that all the extras that have shown up in camp will scare them off, do you?" Eshal asked.

"Only time will tell, Miss. Eshal." Homsi replied.

"We haven't seen them in days, I worry."

"Miss. Eshal, if I may, I am more concerned over the fact that your mother hasn't been seen, and that she wasn't with them." Homsi said.

"My dad says that they might live near here, and that mam may be allowing them to walk around." Eshal said. Though the concern was an adult one, she did have to agree with Homsi—she was also concerned over her mother not being seen yet and over her brothers being seen without her and over their being sighted without an adult in-tote.

"I do believe that your father has plans to scout the towns and cities both near and around here." Homsi said. "He's doing things slowly, Miss. Eshal, and he has plans to do this slowly. Only ten Goblins will be sent into the shields at a time, and no humans will be pulled out. The order given will be very simple, Miss. Look for your brothers, and for your mother."

"When's he going to do this plan? Do you know?"

"Possibly tonight." Homsi said. "I'm not sure on when he'll be putting his plan to action."

It took a total of three more days before the order that he and his employer's daughter had spoken about was given out; like he had said, ten Goblins—no more than that; his employer didn't want to cause a panic in the area, which could well cause the Young Masters, and Mistress Angel, to be injured or displaced—were sent to the shields. The ten-picked Goblins were sent in groups of three; as luck would have it, he found himself being a member of the first group while Losal found himself going with the second and Eldass found himself going with the third. Nearly all of their searches were done at night—along with their employer not wanting a panic to happen he also wanted them to not be seen; the night-conducted searches would ensure that as happening.

The main area that he and his group searched on night one was called Bryan; there were a few other areas that they searched as well but, for the most part, they mostly stayed in or around the town of Bryan on that night. Losal and his group did the same—it was the town of Granger that they mostly stayed in or around—as did Eldass and his group—the city of Rock Springs were where they spent most of that night in. Their searching found nothing; after spending the entire night ducking into this corner, or into this or that shadow, and of looking for the ones that their employer was hoping to find, they had gone back. Their respective groups had done the same on night two—the town of Table Rock was where he and his group spent most of their time in; Losal and his group had mostly stayed around the town of Wamsutter while Eldass and his group had stuck around the said-to-be consensus-designated place of Arrowhead Springs. Again, nothing was seen or even found on that night. They had returned to camp despondent over their inability to find anything; their employer had simply nodded his head after hearing their reports.

Goblins who were in the military were very different than those who went to Staffer's Academy; even though they had signed their Loyalty Papers with the name of the one that they wished to be loyal to forever they didn't show any loyalty to anyone other than that one person—the men that he, Eldass, and Losal went out on scout with had a loyalty to Master Tazir only; they could care less about his wife or children. In a way, this was why he, and his two co-workers, had been told to go with the groups—to ensure that no harm would come to the Young Masters, or their mother, if they were found or happened upon. As it was, he didn't much like the young buck that led his group. The man was younger than he, and he had a Lieutenant position, and he held no true regard to the things around him—this was proven on the night that he had gone with his group to the town of Bryan; this man had killed a dog for just ambling by and then he had scared a bunch of late-nighting human-kids, who were doing nothing but standing around a dumpster.

A change was put into effect for the third night's searching—no instructions were given out; Master Tazir let them go by their own, then he woke them up at dawn. He and his group were sent to the nearly deserted town of Bairoil while Losal and his group and Eldass and his group were sent elsewhere; the "leader" of his group was quick in declaring their search as concluded about four hours in on their entrance to the town then left. Instead of going with the man, who went to the towns of Winton and North Rock Springs, met up with the groups that Eldass and Losal were apart of, then took them and disappeared, he stayed in Bairoil. Eldass and Losal, soon after finding themselves all alone and forgotten, did what they thought was best in teleporting to where he was; at nine-ten in the morning, they sat then started compiling what all they had checked.

"Let's see if we can put together an _actual_ report for our employer—what all have we searched, when did we search it, and what have we seen in them locations?" Losal, who had a map all spread out before him, said.

"Bairoil was where me and my so-called group spent all of this morning at—barely populated, in accord to the other places that we've searched. Found nothing of the Young Masters, or Mistress Angel, in it." Homsi said. "The events that happened in the town of Bryan were quite eventful—went there on Night One; around two hundred or so humans were seen. Again, no sighting of the Young Masters or Mistress Angel. The town of Superior is very unpopulated—searched that on the same night that Bryan was searched; around a hundred or so humans there and, again, no sighting of the Young Masters or Mistress Angel. The town of Table Rock, which was searched on Night Two, is mostly ghost-like—again, no sighting of the Young Masters or Mistress Angel."

"Rock Springs was where me and my very distracted group of men went on Night One; it surpasses all of the places that we searched by a mile in population size—no sighting of our employer's missing ones." Eldass said. "Farson was searched on that same night—had around four hundred or so humans in it; no sighting of Mistress Angel or her sons. Arrowhead Springs had maybe two hundred and fifty to three hundred souls in it; it was searched on Night Two, no sighting of Mistress Angel or her sons. Can't give a report on the "town" that was searched by my group today—all we did was teleport there then stand around under a tree."

"Did a small pop-in at Reliance, Washam, and Eden on Night One—the count on civilians there is very little; no sightings of our employer's missing family were noted. The town of Granger has around fifty to seventy-five people in it—it was also searched on Night One; no sightings of Mistress Angel or her sons." Losal said. "Wamsutter, Clearview Acres, and McKinnon was what me and my stooges "searched" yesterday; McKinnon surpassed Clearview Acres in population count—I'd say around three hundred live there; around a hundred to a hundred and twenty-five live in Clearview Acres. Wamsutter's population is around three hundred strong. No sighting of the Mistress or the Young Masters in them three locations. North Rock Springs, which was "searched" today, surpasses all of their population counts—around seven hundred or so live there; again, the Mistress and her sons weren't seen."

Homsi, who had a notepad, and a pencil, in hand, wrote all of what was said down then looked up; in comparison to he and Eldass, Losal and his group had gone to a lot more locations, but he had had the same luck as they in not seeing a single thing of their employer's missing family. This he found both alarming and intriguing—if their employer's sons were on the planet, and in the county where their employer's camp was in, and if their mother was with them, then they should of either been seen or heard of during some of the conducted searches.

From what they had been told, this portion of the continent had been hit especially hard by the last plague; seeing as how the population counts were in this county, and, presumably, state, it looked like what they had been told was true.

"Were Little America, Purple Sage, and James Town searched?" Homsi asked as he put his notepad and pencil away.

"Not that I know of." Losal replied.

"Before heading in, then giving the real report on what we've searched these past three nights to our employer, let's look at them." he got up from his seated position, dusted the back of his pants, then took two steps from his co-workers before stopping. "We'll break for lunch after they've been searched before checking on the areas that are said to be deserted. They have to be in this county, and state—they have to be here... somewhere."

As Homsi, Eldass, and Losal searched Little America, and then James Town, and found them to be nearly completely deserted—a handful or two of people, or just one or two families, and plenty of wind-beaten houses and business buildings was what they found when they went to them two places—, Bile and Lhaklar were leaning against one of the rickety old buildings that were in the very sparsely populated town of Purple Sage. The two of them, after eating breakfast, then bidding their mother and younger brothers a good day, had gone to the town for a breather—after the six days that they had gone through, they thought they more than deserved to have one... and what better place to take that breather in than Purple Sage, which was both a distance from their resident town and from the camp that their mother had told them to stay away from.

The building that their backs were pressed against had once been used by one of them What-A-Burger restaurants; unlike some of the other restaurants that had gone out with the plagues, or that hadn't been able to make a comeback after the plagues came to a close, this restaurant had gone bankrupt—in 2065, it had closed its doors forever. Even though the restaurants were gone, some of their buildings were still up—some were still being put to use while others had just been kept up for historical purposes; the building that they were leaning against had simply been left up and intact because the humans had plain forgotten that it existed. If Purple Sage wasn't so low in population, the building might of been maintained better.

The two of them hadn't been able to go out yesterday, or on the five days that had preceded yesterday—it had either been raining or they had been asked to stay home to look after Lazeer, who had gone back to acting like his old, depressed self again. On the day that their mother had caught wind of what they had done in checking out that camp, and then getting into a brawl with Baruk and Gaajah, they had done nothing but manual labor—the chores that their mother had given them to do.

Lhaklar sported some good broken skin on his hands; the trees that he had been told to cut down had been taken down within twelve hours time, he had taken a short hour break between cutting one down before going on to doing the other. He had gone by their mother's instruction in not using gloves while taking them trees down, and he had made his own decision in not using his powers to aid him in taking them down—while Mother had said for him to not use gloves she had said nothing on his not using his powers; he had taken it upon himself to not use his powers... it had given the reason behind his given punishment a better cause.

Lazeer had done as their mother had said for him to do in being a pest—he had been at his ear the entire time that he had been whacking them trees... all sorts of things had come from his mouth and he hadn't had a single bit of say on his shutting up or going to some other place. Lazeer had rambled on and on about his swinging— _you're swinging too high; you're swinging too low; you'll lose the ax by swinging that hard and fast_ —and he had also asked a lot of questions. What was dad like? Was he nice? Was he mean? What did he look like? Did you see anyone else besides dad, Baruk, and Gaajah?—that and more was what he had been asked six days ago; he, between chops, and yells after getting splinters embedded in his hands, had answered what he could of his little brother's questions.

Of the questions asked to him, he hadn't been able to answer the one on how their father was like; while he knew he had been a nice man before their mother had taken them away he wasn't sure of what he was now. For all he knew, the man might of gone and become a meanie after they were relocated to Earth.

He had said that he had seen their paternal grandfather; he hadn't been able to answer the question on if he was, or had been, nice. He had also said that he had seen their Uncle Kuruk; again, he hadn't been able to say if he was nice or not—while he remembered some of these two he couldn't remember how they had been towards him or Bile.

He had put in a good effort on them two trees; all of the muscles that he had worked hard to get—while running around Green River; by doing laps on the trails that ran away from Green River; and by using the natural "gym" that had once been the town of Winton, which had been bulldozed over a thousand years ago—had been screaming, and sweat had just been pouring from him, at the conclusion of them two trees being cut down. He had finally been allowed to take the much-needed nap that he had wanted to take after them two trees were felled; mom had been more than allowing for him, and Bile, to rest up after hearing that their given chores were done, and she had also been more than allowing in letting them rest the following day as well.

"I might not have the big, burly body that Bile has but I'm strong and can do almost as much as he can when it comes to doing anything strenuous." he had thought before going off to take that much-needed nap.

He was glad to have the body that he had; one in his profession needed to have a little muscle on them, and it didn't hurt to be smart, or to have a little stamina, or more than a little muscle, as well. Dancing needed muscle; one didn't throw cash to another who was struggling to keep up the pace, or who couldn't hold up a girl after he decided to bring in one from the audience to do a little, on-stage, act. Not only did dancing call for muscle but so did his family; he and Bile did a lot of the heavy work when it came to the apartment needing to be repaired, and they also helped in taming the area that was around their apartment.

The roof of their apartment, for example, had been in desperate need of repair after Winter Storm Allie blew threw five years ago—five feet of snow had been dropped on their county, and hurricane-force winds had blown for nearly four days before calming down; the roof of their apartment had come very close to collapsing on them after the storm blew through. The drains and gutters had been changed, or repaired, twice now—the last time that the gutters had been damaged had caused him and Bile to lose nearly five years of their lives; a storm, that had 75 MPH winds to it, had blown through and had caused one of the trees in their backyard to fall. Two of the branches had hit the gutter, and another had broke the window—he and Bile were lucky; if not for their jumping from bed, then rushing over to the door of their room, they might of had more than a single scare on their hands.

Hazaar and Lazeer didn't just laze around in the apartment; they helped when something came up with the apartment, or when an outside chore needed to be done. Hazaar sometimes did the grass; he had fixed the pipes under the house several times, and he had been a better than fine helping aid when the time came for the exterior walls of the apartment to be repaired. Hazaar had also painted the outside of the apartment as well; most of the time, it was he who raked the leaves when they fell from the trees during the winter season.

Although Lazeer couldn't do much—because of his eye problem—he did do a lot both inside and outside of the apartment. If Hazaar refused to rake the leaves, he went and did it himself, and he was the self-appointed shoveler of the walkway and driveway after a good snow fell. He had helped in redoing the floor in the living room; he had done the wall that was between the kitchen and living room and he had actually redone the entire downstairs bathroom on his own. Lazeer had also put in more than four mailboxes as well—as was natural, he only did the repairs, or chores, that were needed to be done outside when the sun was hidden behind the clouds.

All of them did their fair share of helping around the apartment—even their mother pitched in. Other than being the other breadwinner of the family, she had also had a part in redoing, or fixing, the pipes that were under the upstairs bathroom and kitchen sink, and she had also fixed the sewer pipes after they went on them—the latter fixing had surprising them; she was a tough old bird and they loved her oh so much for that.

She had also replaced the windows several times; the furnace, after going out on them two summers ago, had also been repaired by her. After the central AC went out on them a few months ago, she had personally seen to purchasing and then installing a 2,200 BTU AC window unit—and all by herself to boot; no help by any of them had been allowed. He and his brothers had stayed ten feet from her both during and then after the window unit was put in; Lazeer had been spinning all sorts of jokes on her being Hercules Mom, Defender of he Household, Conqueror of the 2,200 BTU AC Window Unit, after she was done in putting the unit in the living room window. He had done the same thing after she installed the new hot water tank—which had gone out on them seven years ago. Lazeer, when that water tank was put in, had said that she was The Incredible Hulka—the wife of the Hulk, who could flip cars with one hand, and who could crush cars with just her feet, and who could leap to the stars with very little effort. Lazeer had also gone around saying that he was "afraid" of her—this saying they knew was nothing more than a joke; their mother would never hurt them. She was a true mother; a woman who was just great at everything.

"Don't hog it all ya freak!" Bile exclaimed.

"My cigarette, I can hog it all day if I want to." Lhaklar replied smugly.

Lhaklar took a drag from his Black Devil; he had four others in his silver case, but he wasn't about to let that little secret out—not after Bile got him in trouble for going near that camp, not after Bile shoulder-slapped him right after he came in from finishing them two trees off, and especially not after Bile kept him up with his blasted mumble sleeping last night.

He had picked up the habit from Bile, who had started smoking a hundred and forty-two years ago; he had started doing the Basic's then he had switched to the Winston's. At the time he had met his connection in town, who had been smoking a Black Devils cigarette, he had been near to quitting; after meeting that man, then being allowed to smoke one of his cigarettes, that decision was dropped. He paid the guy $25 for five packs; by the time the month was up, and he was in need of another five packs, he had smoked all but one pack of what he had purchased—he didn't chain smoke, and he didn't do dealings or hand-offs. He only smoked to relax. Usually, he only smoked one cigarette a day. If he was especially edgey, or nervous, he'd smoke two or three—if he was edgey, or nervous, he put himself on a limit; there was no use in him hurting himself, or making an already bad habit grow worse.

The age where one was allowed to smoke had been 18 in 2013; it had changed several times to 21, and then to 25, before being moved back to 21—it had stayed at this age for almost two hundred years before being changed back to 18. The man that he bought his cigarettes from thought he was above the legal limit—it was his age that had caused the man to believe this and, really, he had never disputed this. In all actuality, he was still a teenager—a mid-teenager, to be exact.

He took another drag from his cigarette, held it in, then breathed the smoke that had filled him out through his nostrils before handing it over to his brother; he had only taken four puffs from the thing and yet his brother was acting like he was keeping it all to himself—which he could very well of done. As he had said, it was his cigarette; he could of kept it just to spite his over-doing it brother.

"About damn time!" Bile exclaimed, he took the cigarette then placed it between his lips. A long drag was taken, then a jet of smoke was blown out.

"You are an addict!" Lhaklar said. "You go crazy if you don't have something to clog your lungs. You need to slow down... cool it, and smoke only—"

"I'll make a memo on that dad." Bile said.

"Just saying it as it is. Every time I'm with you you're smoking." Lhaklar said.

"I don't smoke all the time like you say."

"Really? Whenever I'm with you—"

"So what! We're brothers—we do certain things that we have in common together. That's how it's suppose to be—we have a mutual interest, and we either share or team-up to enjoy it." Bile exclaimed. He gave the cigarette back. "You're one to talk anyways—whenever you're with me you smoke as well."

"You go through wah—"

"One cigarette is not called an addiction, Brother."

"And a joint."

"So what! You've smoked them with me as well."

"That's two—"

"Send my bill and my punishment slip in the mail." Bile held his hand up; his palm was held flat, and towards his brother. The gesture was an old one that the humans did; it meant talk to the hand, I'm not listening anymore so just talk to my hand.

Lhaklar took a single drag from his cigarette then gave it back to Bile; he shoved his hands into his pockets then walked away from the boarded up building that had once housed the What-A-Burger restaurant. He had kept what Bile's father had said about him being the only son of his father's to of survived to himself these past six days—even though the idea had come to him to spill it, and even though he had come close to cracking under the pressure in keeping it to himself, he hadn't said a word of what he had heard. It was effecting him—eating him up inside—and he didn't much like that. Bile seemed to of accepted it; he didn't speak of it, and he didn't seem all that much affected by it either. If it had been Bile who had been said to of be dead he'd also feel low and broken inside as well; Hazaar and Lazeer were damn annoying at times but they were his brothers—he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't in his life. Hazaar and Lazeer didn't deserve to be written out of anything, or left out of something that was important—like their father's claim of "looking" for them.

Hazaar had wanted to come with them to Purple Sage; he hadn't been allowed to do so—one of the living room windows had been broke by him yesterday... he had been having one of his temper tantrums at the time. The little shit, who was stuck with doing house chores for three days for that window being broken, was going through a lot right now; they were all guessing that it was going to be a while before he went back to being a little less temperamental.

Lazeer had plain refused to leave his and Hazaar's bedroom; for the last two days, he had been doing nothing more than lying under the covers of his bed. His mother and he were doing all that they could; between the two of them, they had saved up over five hundred dollars for what he needed in eye-ware—even though he thought that this was a pitiful number for them to be able to come up with in two weeks time he wouldn't dare say it out loud. His mother worked her ass off; she had her regular job at Food Lion and she had the work that she did at home. He was mostly angry at himself for not being able to help in acquiring the funds for Lazeer's goggled glass faster... he had a good mind to head over to the big club that was in Rock Springs; he had been told that a dancer could make seven hundred a night there, and that would do more than help in getting the much-needed funds for his little brother's glass faster. Although they'd still be lacking some money for the glass they'd be a step or two closer to being able to get it at a quicker date—$700 was a lot better than his piddly paycheck of $300, that was for sure.

There was just one problem with the big club in Rock Springs; while Kale's World had separate areas for dancing—where the men could dance in one area and the women in the next—and was open to all orientations, and was an inside-only type of building, the club in Rock Springs was set in all one place.

Dancers danced outside—in the open... where everyone could see them—and there were no regulations as to who of what gender could ask another for a private dance. He was straight; he had no problems with people that swung either way, or who were simply for their same gender, but he did have a problem with having his own gender looking at him. It made him feel funny. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"Bile," he said after putting a stop to his walk.

"Yeah?"

"Is there any way you could possibly get a job or something?" Lhaklar asked. "Help in getting some money together for Lazeer or—"

"You are _not_ suggesting that I shiver and shake my goods, are you?"

"No,"

"Good, 'cause I do that only once a month, and with the neighboring town girls to boot." Bile said. "You do the wag, I'll keep the clothes on."

"I'll remember that when the baby's plopped on our doorstep." Lhaklar said.

"Why are you asking me about me going out to get a job, L?" Bile asked. He rarely called his brother by just the first letter of his name; at that particular moment in time, he couldn't help himself in not doing so.

"Mom and I have only managed to save up five hundred dollars—we need one thousand, six hundred more." Lhaklar said. "Lazeer needs his glass and soon... I'm afraid that if we prolong the wait further, he'll get so depressed to—"

"He would do no such thing!"

Bile finished the cigarette that he had been given, then snubbed it out on the side of the building, then ran over to his brother; he grabbed Lhaklar by the collar of his shirt, then gave him a single shake, then released him. Just hearing what his brother had said had scared him—he didn't believe that Lazeer would go that far in his depression. He didn't believe, nor want to hear, that Lazeer would hurt himself over not being able to go outside when the sun was out or because his glass couldn't be gotten at a sooner date.

Ma had been more than a little worried about Lazeer yesterday; along with his having to wrestle him out of bed, and telling him to mingle with the family, Lazeer had also stared at his feet the entire day. He couldn't be sure but he did believe that he had also heard him mumble once or twice—he must of done the mumbling thing around Hazaar as well, because Hazaar had gone screaming for their mother just after she got home from work. He had screamed for her to come and to come fast and she had; he wasn't sure what had been heard but he did know that their mother had spent around forty-five minutes sitting and talking to him—Lazeer had gotten quite teary-eyed during that talk. The kid was really upset.

Ma had done a lot of talking to Lhaklar when the subject of his getting a job to help the family had come up; instead of going out to get his job without talking to her about it first he had brought it up and he had been told to not do so. Ma wanted them to remain being kids; she wanted them to enjoy their teenage years, she didn't want them to have adult worries on their shoulders and she didn't want them to have to worry about what all in revenue came in or what all in revenue went out. Lhaklar had insisted though; even though their mother had said no, and had stuck true to his not getting a job, he had gone out to get one anyways. He had come home four years ago saying that he had gotten himself a job at the food mart called Walmart; his position had been said to be a cashier. Ma had gotten on him for his going out behind her back to get a job, and for not listening to her, but she had been happy over his being mature in wanting to help the family. She was still getting on him about quitting, though, despite being proud of him.

Bile knew that she was worried about his brother; she was worried that he'd become stressed from all the workload that they put on him at his job—if she knew what he actually did for a living she wouldn't be but so worried... she'd be madder than a hornet and Lhaklar might well be checking into a hospital. Lack of skin on the backside would be the injury that would cause him to be admitted to the hospital—ma would whap him with a towel, then do a lot of chasing, then whap him some more, then chase him some more, then she might just use some of her powers on him in her fury.

After Lhaklar went and gotten his fabled, cashier job at Walmart their mother had sat them all down; the law had been put on them. No one else was to get a job. No but's, if's, or why not's were allowed; she had said to all of them that she should be the one to foot the worries on her shoulders, and that it should be her who should be working for a living and bringing in the cash that was needed for them to live on. She had also said that she preferred for them to act as one of their age did.

"He still acts his age... despite having a job, and acting a bit adultish, he still acts his age." he thought as he stepped away from his brother.

Lhaklar gave his brother a look before turning and then moving away; Bile was just making the decision to follow him when Homsi and Losal appeared on the other side of the building. The two of them moved off, talking all the way, and being completely oblivious to how close they were to two of the people that their mother wanted them to stay away from. They had only gone five feet from the building when one of two Goblins spoke.

"I have a fear over Young Master Hazaar being lost, Losal." Homsi confided to his co-worker after they appeared in the town of Purple Sage. "In comparison to what was seen a few thousand years ago, the population on this planet is small and a lot's happened here between the time that the Mistress left with her sons and now."

"Have that same fear, Homsi." Losal said in return.

A snake had caused their threesome to become a twosome—Eldass, when they were in the town of James Town, had accidentally overturned a wooden wagon wheel, which was concealing a venomous snake at the time; he hadn't been able to get out of the way quick enough. The snake had just bit him, had injected its venom into him, then had started to slither away—Eldass had managed to catch, kill, and then bag it before going back to camp; he was probably doing well, just getting a dose or two of the appropriate anti-venom that would counter-attack against what had been injected into him and then being told to take it easy for a day or two.

He and Losal both agreed that the two towns that they had just searched shouldn't be considered towns; there were barely any humans living in them, and most of the area that was in them two locations was sand, dirt, and tumbleweeded over. Neither of them had put any thought in on keeping a down-low in them two locations—a small boy, who had been wearing something akin to rags, and who had stunk something awful, had come up to them to ask if they were gnomes in the "town" of Little America while two teenage girls, who had been wearing Sunday dresses, and flower-filled hats, had given them a few look-overs when they had been in the "town" of James Town. In all, they had spent fifteen minutes to half an hour searching them two locations before deciding to teleport to the town of Purple Sage.

At first glance, it looked like their current location was a little more populated than them other two; they saw a few humans walking around, and they heard someone talking on the other side of the building, and they could hear the sound of car horns being used and gravel and tarmac being run over by car tires. The ones that were on the other side of the building moved off quickly, and the few humans who were out and about moved along, so they didn't have to worry about anyone coming around, or crossing the street and then noticing them, and then freaking after seeing them. As it was, the two of them would of been in for a shock if they had known how close they were to the two youngsters that they were looking for.

And, as luck would also have it, they'd be the only ones to miss-out on seeing the program that their employer would be giving out in the next few minutes to each of their co-workers, Eldass included in the mix. This program, which would be about Earth, and its various changes, and plagues and natural disasters, would of given them, and their peasant brains, which weren't allowed, or able, to take in the happenings of each planet that was known in the vast Universe, some insight as to what all had happened here over the last twenty-two hundred years.

Humanity had, indeed, gone back to being animalistic; after the climate changed in 2025, and numerous winter and tropical storms blew in, the humans hadn't had any other choice but to go back to being like that of their ancestors—Cro-magnon Man and the Neanderthal. A series of droughts had taken hold of the planet—one had lasted for nearly fifty years—then a bunch of plagues had set in, followed by natural disaster after natural disaster, then a sort of Ice Age had set in to cause further trouble for the survivors. The population of England, Ireland, Iceland, and Australian had all but been wiped out after the final plague set in.

At current, the population stood at one billion strong; with what they had seen, they were near to disputing this. The two of them, in a few hours time, after finally being allowed the "privilege" of seeing the program on the planet's history, would start thinking up bad scenarios that revolved around their employer's wife only being able to keep up with the demands of only two of her three surviving sons; they'd see Lazeer as succumbing to his early birth very quick, then they'd see their employer's wife grow frail and sick after trying to keep both herself and her three surviving children fed and safe from predators. They'd see Hazaar as succumbing to this stressful life, then they'd see their employer's wife bounce back after things settled down. Bile and Lhaklar would fill out, would be allowed to be children again, then they'd be whisked away to a safer area after the next natural disaster, or plague, set in.

It was the precursor to these thought-of scenarios that caused Homsi to stop and then lean up against the building that they were near; soon after leaning against the building, which was a boarded up, dilapidated mess, he sighed.

"Master Tazir needs to find Mistress Angel, and the Young Masters, and quickly," Homsi said. "This isn't a place for them—much too dangerous. The air could well still be contaminated; the water could well still be contaminated; the animals might also be carting around the recent plague that was felt here."

"I agree full-heartily with you." Losal said.

The program that they'd seen in a few hours time would have such a profound effect on Homsi that he'd be more than happy that his employer's ship was so air-tight, and that the air that was circulated in it was fresh and clean, and that there were filters all throughout its ducts that kept all diseased particles that managed to get in from getting into the systems of the ones who resided within it. He didn't want to return to his wife and children sick, and he didn't want his employer, or his employer's daughter, to return to Moas being sick either.

Homsi took his tuxedo jacket, which was a slate gray color, off; due to the current temperature, which was between eighty and eighty-four degrees, it wasn't needed to be worn. He slung it over his arm then started off; Losal followed in his example by taking his green striped tuxedo jacket off right after he started to leave his side. Mr. Khrelan tied his jacket around his waist hastily then ran off in pursuit of his co-worker; by the time they reached the side of the building that Bile and Lhaklar had been on, the two youngsters had moved off a ways.

Bile, in the time that the two Goblins had been talking, and removing their jackets, had found a log; it was long, and sturdy enough to stand a few rounds of teenage abuse. He stood it up, so that it was sticking up towards the sky, then he looked at his brother.

"Pop this baby, Bro!" he exclaimed. "Give it a good pounding!"

Lhaklar removed his green and cream striped, long sleeve, button down shirt then did as his brother had instructed him to do; Bile had said something about their needing to find and then use something to get their pent-up pressures and stresses out and it looked like he had found that something for this activity to be done on—the log was a decent punching bag. It was hard, but he didn't mind that at all.

He swung his fists; as expected, all of his stresses were released with each impact that happened between them and the bark of the log. He swung; he treated the log almost like an actual opponent by jumping to the sides in an "attempt" to avoid its own "swings"; he even yelled out a bunch of cat-calls to the log in an attempt to get it "mad" at him. Bile, in like fashion, started laughing after he started acting this way. He was having fun at around the tenth swing that he gave out to his "opponent".

Like Bile had figured, he _did_ have a lot on his shoulders—working at the club to bring in money for his family, saving up for Lazeer's glass, dealing with his own problems, and, of course, the constant, day-in to day-out concerns that he had over their mother, and her health and well-being. As he swung his fists, making them get all bloody, and making the knuckles on back to his hands get to being all pain-y, he imagined the log as being the holder of all of his problems. He struck the log for a full fifteen minutes before backing off; he was winded, he was sweaty, his hands were hurting him, but, dammit, he felt good and and free inside. He felt as if he could leap off the ground and then fly to the moon and back.

Bile took his turn after he stepped away from the log; he eyed the log for a full five seconds before swinging his arms back. He grabbed the back of his shirt then, with a fierce tug, yanked it up and then over his head; he tossed it behind him then went to work on issuing a sort of "punishment" to the log.

"When you went to Pronghorn, you did Boxing, right?" Lhaklar asked as his brother rained terror to the log.

"No—wrestling." Bile replied, then added, "wrestling and track."

"You should consider becoming a wrestler."

"I did—it didn't go as well as I had hoped it would." Bile replied. "The human that I picked to wrestle with went down after one swing."

"He mustn't of been as physically able as you then."

"He was six foot, five inches and he had to weigh nearly two hundred and forty pounds."

"What!" Lhaklar exclaimed as he dodged a chunk of log-wood, which had spun off from its parent-base; Bile was being unmerciless with his fists and it was sure showing on the thing that he was attacking. "You picked a human who was two inches taller than you, but who was ten pounds under what you are, and he still fell after one punch?"

"Yeah."

"I'll remember to not piss you off anymore."

"You needn't worry—I don't hurt the ones I love." Bile said. He then turned to look at his brother. "That includes you."

"I thought you despised me?"

"I have _never_ despised you," Bile said. "You get on my nerves sometimes, but that's how it's suppose to be. Brother's aren't suppose to meet eye to eye all the time."

"Quit your mumbling when you sleep and I won't get on your nerves so much." Lhaklar said.

"Man my mumbling is a far cry from what you do at night." Bile said. He gave his brother a slight push before going back to punching the log. "I practically have to open a window to get the stale air that you cause in our bedroom out."

"That's a lie! You drive me out with _your_ foul stench."

"That's you, not me."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

The conversation that followed was one that their mother would just not be able to understand—she'd probably stop in her tracks, stare at them for a second or two before turning around and then exiting the room. The two of them would probably not hear a word from her for a while if she had ever heard what came from their mouths.

They spoke of who stank their bedroom up more; of who made the other sleep less with their constant emissions of foul smells; of who wished he could toss the other out of their room after the first fart was emitted; and of who wished there really was a plug, either of the rear-end or nose kind, in existence and of how big or small it should be to accommodate the one who was either giving out the foul gases or who was forced to be around one who gave them foul gases out. By the time Bile had ended his pounding session on the log, they had gone to talking of who had the brownest hole, the smelliest hole, the hole that went all the way to China and back, and, of course, who got more girls and who was forced to wait on the sidelines until finally finding someone to flirt with and possibly follow to their apartment.

After Bile finished his work-out on the log, they collected their shirts then walked off; both felt better. It felt like a lot of their stresses and problems had been lifted from their shoulders. Though, at the moment, they didn't know of how wrecked their knuckles were, they would shortly; Lhaklar's bluish-colored blood was dripping from his knuckles while Bile's reddish-green colored blood oozed from his own. There was a trail of both kinds of blood following in their wake; since they didn't know the state of their knuckles, or about the blood that they were leaving behind, they neither stopped to take it in or put much worry on it. One of Bile's fingernails had also been split during his punching match with the log; he didn't notice it, and he wouldn't notice it until after getting home.

Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was destiny. Homsi Modulavich put a fast end to their stress relief; Bile had just turned around, and then started back-skipping, when the Goblin rounded the corner. Due to not knowing who had just rounded the corner of Cy Eve Avenue, Bile neither stopped or put much mind in on who it was that he tripped over; after tripping over the Goblin, he went head-first to the concrete. His head hit the concrete walkway so hard that Homsi, Losal, and Lhaklar all heard it.

"Young Master—" Homsi yelled after seeing who it was that had tripped over him.

"—Bile!" Lhaklar finished for the Goblin.

Lhaklar turned on the Goblin. Homsi had not a snowball's chance in hell to protect himself after the six foot, one inch tall son of his employer lunged at him. The oldest son of his employer, who he fully thought and believed was the only remaining son of his employer, sent him flying towards the building that housed Buckle, a store that sold mostly pants, or other pant-like items, then started wailing on him after he collided with the concrete walkway. Lhaklar had just jumped on the Goblin, and had just started raining punches on him, when Losal ran up.

Losal, working just as fast as he could, grabbed the youngster, who, owing to the fact that he was shirt-less, he could see the better than fine muscles of, then threw him from his co-worker. Lhaklar had just landed his fifth punch to Homsi's face, and his fourth punch to his chest and shoulders, when he was thrown from him. Losal had no more removed the youngster from his co-worker's body before finding himself flying; he tasted concrete after going face-first to the walkway, then he had a first-hand sighting of Bile grabbing his brother around the waist and then teleporting away.

"Why did you do that! Why did you tear me away from that guy?" Lhaklar exclaimed after wrenching himself free of his brother, who had teleported them to the interior edge of the shield that was around Green River, Wyoming, and who had then taken him over to where the abandoned building, that had once housed a store called Walgreens, was.

"Ma—" Bile started to say.

"So what! He hurt you! That one guy grabbed you by your leg then—"

"I tripped over him. He didn't grab me—I tripped over the guy."

"Mom _was_ right! Mom _is_ right!" Lhaklar started to shake; he had gone from being the defender of his brother to being downright scared out of his wits end. "Mom... oh shit! Our shirts!"

"Fuck our shirts." Bile said of the shirts, which had both been left behind after he had tripped. "I've got a major headache, can we go home now? I've had enough for one day—that fall took a lot from me. Having to grab you on top of it has me—"

"Are you sick?" Lhaklar's anxiety grew; he ran over, then started feeling his brother's forehead. "Are you okay? D-do you think that fall messed with anything upstairs?"

"Lhaklar! Stop it man!" Bile slapped his brother's hand off his forehead. "I'm fine, just have a headache. Home, ma, some good food, some rest, and I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Okay... but if you—"

"Ma will take care of me, she always has." Bile said. He turned, then started walking towards home; Lhaklar walked at his side, he kept a close eye on him just in case anything came up and he was needed.


	20. Chapter 20

"My goodness—you boys keep getting bigger, and taller, every time I see you!"

The four of them, who had just gotten up, and who were still not fully with it that morning, entered the kitchen then stopped after hearing her voice; the voice that greeted them this fine, sunshine-y morning did not belong to their mother. The voice, which had a touch of harshness to it, and which was half-woman and half what-they-called Wolverine, belonged to no one other than the one that they called Granny D.

After hearing the voice, then identifying who it belonged to, then taking in who all was in the kitchen, they filed up to be "hospitable" to the ones who had come to pay them a visit. As they did so, he paid special attention to his brother; he and Bile had been mom-attacked right after stepping foot in the apartment. She had taken one look at their hands before going to work in ushering them into the kitchen, where they were told to stand over the sink. After hearing the tale of their using a log to punch their stresses out on, she went for the bottle of alcohol. It, and a few rags, had been used on their ravaged hands; their mother had used about two cup-fulls on Bile's hands then she had used a cup and a half on his—he had known what was in store and he had tried his best to "weasel" his way out of it. By way of moving his hands, and body, at the right moment, he had managed to evade half of that second cup that she had just turned over.

Mom had gone _Lhaklar_ , Bile had given him a shocked look, then he had said that it had been his aching hands, and the first batch of alcohol that had been put on them, that had caused him to "miss" that half-cup of alcohol. His and Bile's hands had stung, and all matter of fizz had dripped to the sink below, before their mother came back with the roll of bandaging.

Bile's hands had been thoroughly wrapped—now, they almost looked like what a mummy would possess—and so had his. Neither of them had told her a thing of what had happened with the two Goblins until later—Bile had excused himself, had said that he was tired, and that he wanted to take a few hour nap, then he had gone upstairs. Three hours after heading in for his nap, he had woke to finding himself as having a hell of a headache; a pill for headaches was taken then he had gotten up and resumed his day. At around midnight, after a good meal of steak, and leftover lobster, was eaten, and after a halfway decent evening was experienced, he woke to finding himself with a splinter of a headache.

He, in response to hearing how much his brother's head was hurting him, had shot out of bed; a trip to see their mother had been done. Their mother had gone up, had checked Bile over, had given him an Ibuprofen, then had told him to take it easy—it was at this time that they had slipped the story on what had happened with the two Goblins; while she had been angry over their keeping what had happened to themselves she had been happy in hearing that they had been away from the camp and that the encounter hadn't been done outside of the shield. She had given them a warning to not keep things of such importance to themselves then she had gone back down to the living room.

He felt a little ashamed of himself for what he had done yesterday—in using his fists against that log, and in letting his stresses gain a foothold in him. He wasn't one who attacked logs, or other items that weren't punch-worthy or safe to punch. Normally, he'd wave his hand at Bile, then tell him no on doing such a thing; for him to go and punch a log, and cause further damage to his already damaged hands, was strange. He felt no remorse for fighting that Goblin; in his mind, he had done that to teach him a lesson. No one attacked one of his brothers when he was in the area and no one got away with it either.

"Hi Granny D!" Lhaklar said as he went over to give her a hug. She was fast in returning the hug that he gave her.

"What have you been feeding these boys, Angel?" Granny D asked their mother. "Getting so big!"

"Just the normal stuff—plus lots of spoiling extras." their mother replied. He saw that she was all leaned back on the kitchen sink; she looked well rested that morning, which he was glad to note.

"Seem to grow in their sleep. I've been meaning to check the hotlines these past few years—getting to where I can't recognize them."

"Ma!" Bile exclaimed. He then managed a chuckle.

"Let me guess," Granny D had one of Lhaklar's, and one of Bile's, bandaged hands in each of hers. "you two either had a fight—one of them brother brawls—or you two decided to do some punching on something that you shouldn't have?"

"Punched a log yesterday," Bile was fast in saying. "Good way to release pressure and stress... and all that pent-up teenage anger that we have in us."

The woman before them, who they called Granny D, but who's real name was Dione, was their mother's, and Bile's, great-great grandmother; due to his, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's paternity, there was an extra great to what she was in relation to them. Despite knowing her for nearly all of their lives they didn't, really, know all that much about her. She looked nothing of what a great-great, or great-great-great, grandmother looked like; she used no cane, her face wasn't dominated by wrinkles, she didn't have that "old person" smell to her, and she wasn't as weak as a baby.

She was young in appearance; like them, she was immortal. The only way she could cross over to the world of the non-living was if someone injured her critically or killed her.

The ears that Granny D had on either side of her head resembled Bile's but, instead of going half the length of her shoulders, they went the entire length; they were also very feminine. They were a light blue color; the Tiger-like stripes that were on them were black.

Her face was gentle and smooth; there wasn't a hint of age on her. The left side of her face, and they presumed, body, was yellow while the other half of her was a light blue color; she had non-glowing white eyes that had small, black pupils in their centers. The long, deep purple hair, that she had on her head, had gray and white streaks mixed in it—from what they had been told, she had been born with having them streaks in her hair. Her lips, which were very thin, but feminine and delicate in appearance, wore a coating of lipstick on them; her lips were colored oppositely to what side they were on—the left side being light blue while the right being yellow, meaning. She had white eye shadow on her eyelids and black mascara around her eyes.

Granny D was wearing a long flowing—but quite tight looking—maroon dress that had black ties and bows on it; she had maroon-colored high heels on her feet—these had bows on their sides.

She had been the first of their three visitors that he and and his siblings had seen after appearing on Earth; their mother had taken them to a place in Egypt then she had taken them for a walk down a long, and very winding, tunnel. As shocking as it had been back then, a castle had been at the end of that tunnel; their mother had taken them to it, then had knocked on its door, then had gone in after being told to—as was natural, he and his brothers had gone in with her. From what they had been told, the castle had been made by her; right after appearing on Earth, she had made herself a home then had settled in—a fragment of some stone had been the only possession that she had had on her at the time.

Even though he and his brothers accepted her for who she was in accord to them, and even though they were nice to and around her, they mostly thought of her as a family friend.

"Lazeer looks to be well." the woman that they called Auntie Azura said. "Was you able to—"

"No, we've been able to save up five hundred of what we need for his glass." their mother replied quickly. "He's acting a bit better this morning—been acting a bit depressed these past few weeks."

"You've saved five hundred in just two weeks time?" Auntie Azura asked. "That's good—he'll have his glass in no time."

"Really, it's not," Lhaklar said. "Wish it was more as I'd like for him—"

"It's better than nothing, Lhaklar." their mother said quickly. She gave him one of them looks; he responded by nodding and then taking a seat at the table.

Auntie Azura, who's real name was just plain Azura, was the granddaughter of Granny D; she was their mother's, and Bile's, great-grandmother—again, thanks to his, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's paternity, another great was added before her title. Despite her title, she was quite youthful. She looked human; if not for her slightly elongated ears, which were a darkly tanned color, and had just one, black, Tiger-like stripe on them, they would of taken her as one.

She had moss-green eyes; the pupils that sat in their centers were tiny, circular in shape, and light gray in color. The ends and bangs of her hair were blonde while the rest was a midnight-black color. The left side of her face, and, they presumed, body, was darkly tanned while the other half was a bleached white color—it almost looked like she had spent more than enough time sunbathing on her left side only, and that she had totally neglected the care of having her other side catch up to that side's tanliness.

She was wearing a dark green dress; the skirt had a few rip-like designs to it, the hems were black. The lace-like gloves that she was wearing were a dark green color; they ran from the tips of her fingers right on up to her elbows. To them, Auntie Azura seemed to be the more quiet of the trio of ladies that were related to them; despite being more on the quiet side, she was quite powerful. She was also said to be very dangerous to the ones who she marked on her "hit lists". Their mother had once told them that she had been slow in her training; by Granny D's capable teachings, and patience, she had turned out A-alright.

"Every time I see Hazaar he's done something different with his hair." the one who they called Auntie Perniceie said. Although she didn't touch his brother's hair she did have her hand held out towards it; that, in itself, was enough for Hazaar to want to move a step from her. The single braid that he had in his hair had a red feather embedded in it—like Bile, even he didn't know how he managed to get his hair fixed up.

"Still touchy with his hair, isn't he?" Granny D asked.

"He walks around with a sign around his front and back that says Don't Touch The Hair every day." Lazeer was fast in blurting. "It drives the ladies crazy! A lot of the time, they walk away with sad looks on their faces—they just want to run their hands through his luscious, deep purple locks and he won't let them."

He, his brothers, and their mother laughed at the joke while Granny D, and Auntie Azura and Perniceie stayed quite—the three weren't much for joking; he had once heard Granny D telling their mother that she should kick Lazeer's habit of making jokes. _It has no place in the family_ , she had said; _he'll be a lot better off without it and so will you and your other sons_.

This was mostly why he and his brothers didn't much see the three as true family; this was why they saw the three women as more like family friends than family. Their mother accepted their brother for who he was—the jokester in the family—while the three women saw his jokes, and his joking around, as nothing special. They saw it as just something that needed to be cast out like trash in a trash can.

With the exception of her ears, which were just barely sticking out from the sides of her head, Auntie Perniceie, who's real name was just Perniceie, looked like her mother—Granny D. Her hair was long and white in color; the bangs, which were currently being worn in a curly way, were brown. She had hazel-colored eyes; the tiny pupils that were in their centers were black. The left side of her face, and body, was purple while the right side of her face and body was black; her ears were black. There were two, dark gray, Tiger-like stripes on them—owing to how her ears barely stuck out from the sides of her head, they were very close together.

She was wearing a unique, two-piece, Arabian belly dancer outfit. The outfit's bra-piece was a light purple color; the gold sequins that were on the piece were very shiny. The pants that she wore, which were the same color as the bra-piece, were near see-through—the fabric was the same as that of what had been used to make the bra-piece with, but it was shinier. The band that was around the waist of her pants was black; it had gold designs on it. She had nothing on her feet. A see-through veil was worn over her hair; it swept back, going almost the full length of her hair, which went down to her lower back. Auntie Perniceie's stomach was uncovered; this allowed them—him and his brothers—to see that her body was also bi-colored.

"So, who all have they seen?" Granny D asked. Bile and Lhaklar automatically knew that she knew of their "trips" to the camp, and of what had happened to them on the day where they, Baruk, and Gaajah fought. Bile sat down at the table, then crossed his left leg over his right; he leaned back as if the question, and its meaning, meant nothing to him.

"As far as I know, Bile saw his father and Lhaklar saw his." their mother replied. "They saw a bunch of others as well—their memories haven't returned to them; they haven't said who all they saw because they can't remember who is who." she said nothing more for a few seconds before adding, "And they saw two Goblins yesterday."

"You two should really stay in the shield—them people are dangerous. Bile, especially your father." Granny D gave Bile a hard stare that gave him the chills, and that made him feel angry inside. "Knowing them, they'll take you two off this planet—take you away from your mother and brothers. They'll just take you two and leave the rest."

They probably would, Lhaklar thought. He was automatically reminded of what that man, who was his grandfather, but who he wouldn't dare associate himself with in that regard, had said about he being the only one of his father's biological sons to be alive. He thought of what had been said by that man for only a second before casting it to the side.

Granny D went on for a few more minutes; rambling on and on about how they should be careful of where they go, and of who they associate themselves with, or hung around with, and about how they should stay inside the shields at all times. She only stopped rambling after noticing that it was going on nine o'clock; apparently, she, and her brood, were needed to be somewhere at nine-thirty—they said their goodbyes, gave them all hugs, gave them a few parting words, then left soon after she noticed what time it was.

This was how their visits went; they came over, said their hellos, gushed over them, gave out a chiding or two, then left after one or the other noticed what time it was. Most of the time, their visits lasted only five to fifteen minutes—the thirty minute to an hour visits were extremely rare with them.

With the Witchy sisters gone, everyone settled into their normal morning routines. Lazeer went back to being depressed for only five minutes before going back to his old, joke-making self. Hazaar looked out the window—his early-morning silent-doing routine was started right after their visitors left. He and Bile just sat in their chairs; their mother made them honey pancakes, sausage patties, hash browns, and orange juice then took her place at the table. They were fast in eating, they were quiet while consuming their meal, then they dispersed after taking care of the dishes that they had used.

Before he and Bile could head out, Hazaar called them to the side. He could be quiet at times, he could be mean at times, he could be a pest at times, and he could be funny at times—at the moment, he was just plain curious; the interest in the camp had sparked a curiosity in him, which he was about to do a minor expressing of.

Hazaar was fast in giving Bile a camera—one of them small, black and silver types, that had a clip in them that could house up to two hundred pictures on it—then he walked away. They got the silent message that he had given them—if you're planning on leaving the shield, and then going towards that camp, can you snap a few photographs of what you see? With their mother being in the house, he hadn't had the nerve to ask them verbally to do this—he might of been heard if he had done so. Bile looked at the camera, sighed, then shoved it into the front left pocket of his pants.

"I don't want to leave the shield today." Lhaklar whined after following his brother out of the apartment. Bile was fast in teleporting; he followed in his wake. After teleporting, he saw that they were in the train yard. "I've had enough of running from, and fighting, them."

"Stay in the shield then," his brother said as he went towards the shield. "This isn't just for Hazaar, you know. This can also be for ma—she has a right in knowing who all—"

"She probably knows who all is in that camp!" Lhaklar yelled. "All you're doing is heading into trouble! You'll be caught... they'll take you away then—"

"They will not." Bile said.

"They will!" Lhaklar exclaimed. "What is it that you want to see? A bunch of people who hurt mom—some who caused her to be so badly scarred up? People who want nothing more than trouble? Come on Bile!"

"I want answers—who they are, why they are here, and what they want." Bile said.

"Us! Bile, they are looking for us. You, me, and mom. They want us, and who cares who they are. All they are is trouble!" Lhaklar shouted.

"You coming or just hanging back?"

"I'm not going out of that shield and neither are you." Lhaklar said. He got before Bile, then stood with his arms crossed; his feet, Bile noticed, were firmly planted.

"Gonna make me, Tough Guy?" Bile asked as he walked around his brother.

Bile exited the shield with relatively little opposition; Lhaklar charged him, then grabbed him by the arm, then gave him a small tug back before he went on through to the shield's unprotected side. Lhaklar stayed inside the shield for a few minutes; he looked at the vacant train cars, the guard station, the rusty track, and the coal pits that lay here and there before gaining the courage to follow his brother. After exiting the shield, he ran over to the barely seen backside of his brother; he followed him to where the camp was then he decided, just for the hell of it, to teleport to Expedition Island. He hid himself behind one of the island's many bushes while Bile went to work in turning the camera on and then taking pictures.

The first few photographs that he took were of the ships; the camps that were around them was what he took photographs of next. There were a few people—Goblins—moving around outside of the ships; he took around two photographs per person that he saw then he ducked behind a patch of tall, yellow grass. He only went crazy with the picture-taking when the kite-shaped ship's airlock hatchway doors opened; the people who exited the ship neither noticed him or paid him any mind. They just went down the ramp that ran down from the ship then walked along the area that the ship was parked on.

"Good area here—I can see why she chose it to be the location for her kids to grow up in." Gloar Rovnitov, one of the ten people who exited the kite-shaped ship, said after stopping to stretch his arms back and then forward.

"That's what I said. It's a very nice location—a kid can run around without being threatened, and there's plenty of training ground for one to train in. The game animals that roam here are plentiful, so that's another plus for this place." TazirVile said. "We've seen Bile a few times and Lhaklar only once. We're waiting for when they decide to mosey on back for another look-see."

"Can't wait to see them—from what I've seen in the security footage, and from what I've been told by you and your stepfather, they seem right healthy." Gloar commented.

"They are—did I tell you that Losal got a good look at the muscle that's on my son? For one so young, he is very decently muscled."

"No, you didn't. You sound like a very proud pop, Old Timer."

"I am,"

"Just goes to show that old man of yours that you can pass on them good genes." Gloar said as he knocked his elbow into his friend's arm.

Being old school buddies and neighbors, Gloar Rovnitov and TazirVile Surfeit held one another grandly; they gave each other ample amounts of trust and they were better than fine friends. This relationship was so grand that they even trusted one another to possess the keys to their abodes—Gloar had a spare to the front door of Tazir's mansion and Tazir had a spare to the front and back doors of Gloar's very spacious house. Unlike Tazir, who was a conqueror, and who had achieved his wealth, titles, and reputation from conquering three galaxies, Gloar had been born into one of them old money families.

He had been born rich, and he was still rich; after his grandmother, who had made the decision to go to a plague-torn planet for a sort of "vacation", passed away, his father had found himself gaining seven billion dollars. Due to his father being the only child of hers that she hadn't disowned, he had gotten all of what she had willed over. All of her assets, monies, and the racetrack, where the Moas Derby was held every year, had been acquired by him. His father had only had all of this in his possession for two months; both he and his wife—Gloar's mother—had gone to the plague-torn planet to retrieve his mother's body and, sadly, they hadn't been able to get back. They had succumbed to the plague.

He missed them all greatly; even though his father had been a bit of a grump, and his mother being a bit prone to adultery, and his grandmother being a bit too harsh from time to time, he still missed them. He had done all that he could to get them all lifted from the planet that they had gone to; around fifty grand had been spent between their being found on the planet, and then cleaned of plague-contaminants, and then lifted and flown to Moas. He had gotten his parents entombed together in their family's own cemetery; his grandmother had been buried beside his grandfather, who had passed away some forty-two thousand years earlier. His parents had birthed two children; he and a sister, who had sadly been born very weak, and who had died three days after being born. Due to his having no siblings, all of what his parents had gained in wealth, and all of what his father had recently been willed over, had been willed to him—it had taken all of six months before the racetrack, the paper money, the mass amount of collectible coins, the silver and gold plates and other collectibles, and so on and so forth were placed in his capable hands.

All of what he had been willed over, he had discovered soon after getting it all assessed, had had an estimated worth of over seven hundred quadtrillion dollars—due to the racetrack, and several of the year-round fairgrounds that he had acquired through his father after he had passed away, bringing in revenue, he got anywhere between ten to twenty-five million a day.

"Tazir—who I mostly called T back in our schooling days—was fifty years ahead of me when I was enrolled as a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic." Gloar thought.

Their dorms, he remembered, had been in the same building—F12—and on the same level, and their lunch periods had been the same; of the many classes that he had taken in the school two of them his friend had been in. He and Tazir had also "bumped" into one another when they were students at The University of Gray—which was the only other school that they had both been in. By the time he had bumped into his old friend, he had been three inches taller and around ten or fifteen pounds heavier; his powers had been a lot stronger and he had been much more smarter at the time of his enrollment at The University of Gray. Numbers and addresses had been exchanged just prior to graduation from The University of Gray; the two of them had written and called one another for a bunch of years before the idea had crossed his mind on telling him about Moas—Tazir, in one of his follow-up letters, had said that he perceived Moas as drabbish; _with the planet being half rock and ocean_ , he had said, _how can one live comfortably_? Even though he had written back by saying that one did have to purchase artificial grass, and order more than a truckload of dirt, he had also said that the planet was very fertile and peaceful. He had also said that one could do a lot of swimming and boat-like recreational activities like parasailing, deep sea diving, fishing, surfing, or race them good ol' offshore powerboats.

He had been born, and raised, on the planet, but he hadn't been trying to sway his friend into moving to it—he had just been describing the planet to him.

Tazir had written back; he had asked him a few more questions—at the time, he had grown a bit distant from Gamma Vile and had been looking for a different place on a different planet to move to and then live on. Gamma Vile had been his place of birth and raising—it had had that nest-like feeling to it and he had wanted, and needed, to spread his wings and fly.

The following letter from him had included a few sentences on the planet's various bat-populated caves, and of the wild fish that roamed the seas—a small sentence that regarded the hired help that one employed had also been included in that letter. Really, it had been them three things that had gotten his friend to pack up shop on Gamma Vile and then move over to Moas. As fate would have it, his friend had set-up shop about five and a half miles from his place; the land had been purchased and then fixed up, the mansion, along with some of its outside buildings, had been built, and around twenty or so Goblins had been employed.

After all of this happened, his friend had gone quiet on him. He had said not a thing to him for six months; the idea of his making a mistake, and of his friend just writing him off from his life, had been thought of before the newspaper article on his conquest of the Vaisha Galaxy's front-lying planets had been shown to him—Tazir, like any other conqueror would, had been quiet during the process of searching a galaxy out, doing a check on its history, and then of the planning stages of the conquest that he had in mind to do.

Tazir hadn't been quiet, or distant towards him, for no reason—he had been very busy in getting ready to make a name for himself. After the Vaisha Galaxy fell under his control, and his governing was implied to the galaxy's planets, they had resumed talking and regarding one another on friendly terms; his friend had grown more than a little rich after conquering that galaxy, but he hadn't let that, or the fame from his conquest, go to his head.

"Don't mean to be or sound offending, but you look quite a deal like Oscar the Grouch and the Grinch." he recalled his friend's very lovely wife saying to him one day.

He hadn't been offended; until after hearing the description of them two, Earth-made television creations, he had been curious over what she was comparing him to.

He was one of the Amwazar people; a race that reigned from the Awamzie Galaxy, and that was usually covered in either brown and black, light gray and dark gray, or plain green fur—the latter coloration of his species was rare and, wouldn't you know it, he happened to have that rare-colored fur on him. The fur that he had on his body was thick and dark green in color; the hair that he had on his head was stringy and medium green in color—there were a few, dark gray strands mixed in here and there but, for the most part, his hair was medium green in color. He preferred to throw some water on it then comb it to the side each morning after getting up. His eyes were black in color—like coals, as Angel had once described them. The unibrow that was over them was brown; he was the first in his family to have such an item on his body, which made him unique—a distant cousin of his had once said that his unibrow made him look downright ugly; his wife claimed that his unibrow made him look "irresistibly charming". At the moment, he was wearing a pair of black pants and a white, long sleeve, button down shirt; the shoes that were on his feet were of the highly polished, black sort. The red and white striped tie that was around his neck hadn't been made up yet.

Over the years, he had learned what Oscar the Grouch and the Grinch was; the former was a character from a former-run kiddie show called Sesame Street while the latter was a character on a holiday-run program called The Grinch That Stole Christmas. After seeing the two programs, and taking in the appearances of the two, he had said that he should call the ones behind the two programs up and then put in a lawsuit claim—while the Grinch had a small resemblance to him Oscar the Grouch looked almost like his twin.

"So, have you seen this other youngster?" Gloar asked, then clarified, "The one that was seen on Zeta Ren?"

"I haven't seen hide nor hair of him for a while now." TazirVile replied. "Haven't seen Angel either. It's just been Bile and Lhaklar that I've seen."

"You don't think she..." Gloar trailed off.

"I know my wife—she'd not abandon or kick out her kids." TazirVile said. "No, she's somewhere. Bile and Lhaklar are just allowed to do the free-roaming thing."

"Have you seen anything of Hazaar?" Gloar asked. "Or of Lazeer?"

"No... sadly, I think she lost them two." TazirVile looked out at Expedition Island for a few seconds; saying this had been hard, and accepting it as truth was even harder. "Think it's just Bile and Lhaklar... and whoever that one youth is."

"After you catch them all, do you have plans to bring that unknown youth to Moas as well?" Gloar asked. "Do you think he and she are related?"

"She claimed him as her son when they went to Mr. Babusa's establishment, and he refers to her as his mother—I have to; I can't see myself splitting a child from a parent." TazirVile said. "Even when I conquer, I make sure that families stay intact. None of that family splitting shit—I leave that crap to my brother, father, and grandfather."

"Good thing as well—does that help when you take control of a galaxy?" Gloar asked.

"Yes—smooths it out. People already hating you for taking over their planet, and for destroying things, and for you and your armies killing the ones who stand against you in battle. No need to add family separation to that." TazirVile replied. "My brother, father, and grandfather have had to quell thousands of riots after conquering a galaxy while I've only had to quell around a hundred."

"And that just shows how much more intelligent you are than they." Gloar gave his friend a slap on the back, then moved off.

Just as Gloar was saying hello and good morning to Ashaklar, Cheshire, Eshal, and Efagti, Trobrencus and his family left their ship; Gloar had to shake his head at the head of the family. TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit had taken one look at him before starting in on his "fancy" talking—he had just needed to hear the guy talk to know that he swung both ways, and he had just needed to hear him talk in his "fancy" way to know that he wasn't doing so for no reason.

Though straight now, there had been a period in his long life where he had "entertained" ones of his own gender. At one time in his life, he had taken on both a male and a female partner; both had been fine with knowing that he had a dual-relationship going on and both had been fine with the medical threats that came around from relationships of that caliber. He had kept them two lovers for four thousand years before parting from them—the two of them, he had noticed, had grown fond of each other and he, at the time, had grown tired of dating, and fooling around with, ones of his own gender. About a thousand years of "body cleansing" had been done before he had made an attempt to get back in on the dating scene; as fate would have it, he had met his wife, Vixbie, right after returning to dating. He and she had gotten married four hundred years after meeting one another; children had been long in happening between them—he had an issue that made child-bearing near to impossible and Vixbie's uterus wasn't as strong, or as healthy, as that of a normal woman's was. They had managed to have two children—a boy and a girl—about five hundred and nine and two hundred and ten years ago; the units for him had been snipped and the wires that connected his wife's ovaries to her uterus had been clipped right after them two births occurred.

He was just letting the "fancy" talking go through his ears; he didn't return it. The guy issuing out that "fancy" talk was married; he had several kids, and two grandchildren—and, to him, he had more than enough galaxies under his control. Like with the rest of the Surfeits, the guys was as rich as could be.

He was able to have a small conversation before the attention of his unwanted "flare" was gained; TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, clad in a solid black tuxedo, with matching shirt, vest, and shoes, walked over to him right after seeing the female members of his family off to the river's edge. The man, who was using a black cane, that had a snarling chrome wolf handle on it, wasted not a second in targeting him.

"Hello sweetheart," he said.

"Trob," Gloar said back.

"Not very big on conversation are you?" TrobrencusVile tapped the end of his cane against the side of Gloar's shoe; after doing this, he brought it up. He made a face after taking in the state of the man's attire. "Don't have much of a wearers mind, my dear man."

"It's early," Gloar said in his own defense. "Watch the cane, will you. Not a fan of you touching me with it."

"Must have interest in something else touching you then." TrobrencusVile said. The base of his cane made a sound as it was driven into the ground. "So, you are the neighbor of the man who has one surviving son on this planet. What, pray tell me, is your purpose here?"

"Same as everyone else's—to see, and then bring in, Bile and Lhaklar. My wife and I babysat them, their sister, and Hazaar a few times. We never got a chance to see much of Lazeer, sadly."

"That so—took you as being Mr. Tazir's wife for a few days there." TrobrencusVile, who hadn't taken any of what Gloar had said in, said.

Gloar, in response to the noted approach to the start of Trobrencus's "fancy" talk, walked off a few feet; his intention in walking away was to put some distance between he and Trobrencus, who didn't heed to what his silent want was. TrobrencusVile followed him; the cane was drawn up the inside of Gloar's leg after he stopped.

"So, you was also a friend of Angel's? Or was it just Tazir who you regarded on friendly terms?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"Friend of both, and I'm only going to say it once more..." Gloar turned abruptly, then gave his follower a good staring. "Lower your cane. Scram—I'm in no mood for your brand of tomfoolery."

"Really now," TrobrencusVile offered a small chuckle, then smiled a small smile. "with such an outfit as what you are wearing, you look as if you are wanting some of what I'm offering." Cheshire gave the man a funny look after he brought his cane up—the cane wasn't only tapped between Gloar's legs but between his as well. "And more."

Bile, working just as swiftly as he could—Trobrencus's actions had caused him to feel funny; he wanted to be away from the man, and the area that he was in—, snapped as many pictures as he could before moving off. In all, he calculated that a total of eighteen people had come from the ship that had the large, silver coil around its central skull; five people walked out from the ship that resembled his father while five people walked out from the ship that was shaped like the head of a bat. By the time he was through in photographing the people who exited the pear-shaped ship, that was as black, and as shiny, as could be, the clip was half-full. Before moving off, he snapped a few pictures of the ones who followed his grandparents, and Baruk and his siblings, from the ship that had the coil on it; he turned the camera off for a few seconds—to give it a little breather—before pressing the button that would turn it back on.

By the time the camera was back to being on, he was near to where the river's edge was. It wasn't long before his decision in traveling to where the river's edge was turned out to be a very wrong one; he got to feeling very excited after noticing that there were a lot of women swimming about in the river, and he got to feeling even more excited after noticing that they were mostly clothes-less. It was his excitement that caused his arm to rise, and for his finger to land on the camera's record button.

"Damn! Bet the one with the real long legs gives her man more than a better run in the bed." he thought after looking at the woman who looked to have a height of six feet—from his distance, he was able to see that it was her legs that took up much of her height; he was also able to see that she had beady blue eyes, light blue skin, and long, red hair. He wasn't able to tell if the few strands that were on the side of the woman's hair were purple or not—for some reason, his gut told him that they were.

There were some fine women in the river... a good lot of woman flesh just begging to be stared at; the one that he found himself staring at, he'd find out a few days from now, was his aunt—Dara Dara.

Besides his mother, he had never seen a woman of such beauty before in his life. The woman had a ring of bright blue crystals surrounding her face, which was also light blue in color; her hair was light blue in color, long, and wavy in appearance. It looked like she had long, dark blue fingernails—these nails had a curl to them that almost looked painful to him. She had a very petite build; it looked like she stood five foot, four inches.

The woman was the only one of the river-swimming party to be wearing a bathing suit—which was a light blue, and purple, color, and which had synthetic crystals on its waist, stomach, and shoulder-straps.

He looked at this woman for a long stretch of nearly two minutes before shaking himself out of his trance; he turned around, then looked down at the camera. While working on the camera—to get it shut off, and then slid into one of his pants pockets—he kept his head down. This action of his proved to be his downfall—he had no more slipped the camera into his pocket before finding himself flying; TrobrencusVile, fresh from having himself "booted" away from Gloar, and fresh from having a small verbal tiff with Cheshire over where he allowed his cane to tap, had seen him and had grown angry over his being so close to his family's women. His drive to protect his family against the unknown male, who had a camera in his hand to boot, made his mind cloud up; he jumped on Bile without putting two-and-two together on who the youngster was then started in on destroying his face.

"Hey! Hey... sir... hey!" Lhaklar yelled as he charged from his hiding place, then jumped into, and then swam across, the river, then ran over to the man who was attacking his brother.

The island that he had taken refuge on was where he and his brothers had perfected their maneuvering skills; it had also been used as a sort of training arena for when they wished to practice their powers, or for when they wanted to practice with their swords. They had also used the island as a sort of haven for their playful antics—the ambushing of one another, or the act of trying to make the unwary brother yell out in surprise after being jumped on, or grabbed from behind. The forest that was on the island had been the area where their maneuvering skills had been perfected in; it was also where they had waited in-ambush for the one brother who wasn't paying attention to his surroundings to turn around. The river that he had just exited had been used as a sort of pool from time to time—swimming against the rapids, or just plain swimming from one side of the riverbank to the other, had done wonders in helping them to acquire the muscle that was on their bodies. They hadn't really used the island as a sort of hunting grounds—usually, it was a sickly predator, or a sickly deer or moose, that crossed to the island; there was no point in taking down an animal that could well cause their family to get sick, and there was no point in their wasting their time in waiting for an animal that wouldn't cross the river either.

The women, he noticed, had all bolted from the river right after hearing the ruckus that was being caused by his brother and his attacker; they were busy in throwing their clothes on so his exit of the river, and then following charge, was uninterrupted. When he collided with his brother's attacker, who had a long, dark purple braided ponytail, that had a black bow on its end, he started trying to get him off of him. He wrapped his arms around the man's chest then heaved back; he punched the guy twice in the ribs; he yelled at the guy numerous times—nothing of what he did made the man back off his brother. After them attempts failed, he decided to go for his hair; he grabbed the man's braided ponytail, which, like with the rest of his hair, was a shade darker than Hazaar's hair, then he gave it a yank. The result that he wanted was gained after he did so; the man threw him from him, then turned towards him—Bile, who was now sporting a rather bloody face, rolled over to his stomach then got to his feet. His brother, he noted as he backed away from the enraged man, who looked very spot-on to one of them movie-zombies, was disoriented; it'd take him a few seconds—or minutes—before feeling like himself again.

Reacting fast—so he'd not become the man's next victim—he threw his arm back; when he drew it forward, a stream of water rushed past. The man produced a growl as he was hurled away; he bounced on the ground twice, then skidded a foot or two, before coming to a stop. The man, who, he was quick in determining, had some serious issues upstairs, got to his feet soon after stopping; he was just charging in his direction when a clear shield appeared over him and his brother—the man, as expected, was electrocuted, then thrown back, right after running head-first into the wall of the newly-made shield.

"Bile..." Lhaklar said as he got to his feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bile said. After saying this, he turned his head then spat a glob of blood and spit. "Yeah, yeah—I'm fine. Nice handiwork with the shield."

"Didn't you put that up?" Lhaklar asked after walking over to where his brother was. "I didn't."

"No, I'm still very much in a daze here. Who the hell was that guy?" Bile said, then started looking around. "Where'd he go anyways?"

"Good question—just a guy looking for trouble, and he flew off after running into the shield's exterior wall." Lhaklar answered the two questions that his brother had just asked. After taking time out to take in his surroundings, he held his hand out. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah... yeah." Bile was slow in getting up; though wobbly, he managed to stay on his feet. He gave his head a shake, then blinked his eyes a few times, before going stock still. "I can stand, walk, talk—"

"How about run, my dear sons?"

Just as the men in the camp ran up, then started shouting—mostly asking questions of what had happened, then, after noticing them, demanding that they come out from the shield—their mother casually entered the shield that was over them.

Irka and the other women, having dried off, and gotten dressed, ran up just as Lhaklar dodged the hand that meant to grab him by the front of his shirt; Angel Irene, the big, ol' mother bear, who was fiercely protective of her cubs, and who happened to be very angry over catching her two, older sons disobeying her orders in not going near the camp that housed members of her, and their, family, grabbed Bile by the collar of his shirt then started pulling and throwing it, and Bile, all over the place. Bile held his hands out; he did not dare touch his mother, or try to defend himself—he knew that he had been caught red-handed and that he was in trouble.

Angel Irene had been scouting the camp that housed her, and her sons', family for all of three days; she knew all of what was going on in the camp—even though she didn't know some of the people who were in the area she still deemed everyone as unsafe for her sons. After seeing what she had just witnessed, she was more than willing to add Trobrencus to her list of Dangerous Folk—though Bile had deserved to get a little beating, and though she had let him take that little beating, she believed that the man had gone way overboard in attacking her son. She was just starting in on her sons when TazirVile saw her; he ran up to the shield that was over them then asked them, in the most calmest of voices, to come out. He said that they were safe, and that no one would hurt them, and that they had nothing to worry about—his words went unnoticed by his wife, who had since turned her ears off to everyone but her sons.

"What have I told you? I specifically told you to stay out of this area!" Angel yelled at her sons. "You trying to get yourself killed? Both of you! Both of you trying to get yourselves fuckin' killed!"

"N-n-n-n-no m-m-ma..." Bile stammered.

"Lhaklar!" Angel screamed. "Get your green ass over here!"

"N-no."

"Get over here now!"

"Uh-uh."

"Get over here—I'm not going to hurt you, come here."

"Let go of him. We disobeyed you, and we deserve whatever punishment we get, but, please, don't grab, or throw us." Lhaklar pleaded.

TazirVile looked on in complete awe; while the details of what had happened in the area weren't fully known to him he did know that he had his two, older sons and his wife in front of him—while he couldn't get to them he could both see and hear them very well. He couldn't believe it—his wife of twenty-one hundred years looked none different than what she had on the night that she had disappeared with the boys. Even after having four—or, considering that unknown youth, five—boys, she looked fine.

The hair was still a fiery, flaming, red color; the area inside the clear shield was all a-glow with the red glow that was showering from her hair. Them eyes of hers were still an emerald-green color; the pupils were black, and were surrounded by a single, golden-yellow ring. That body of hers was just as petite as could be—to him, and everyone in his family, she still possessed the record for post-pregnancy weight loss; she went back to her original weight in two to two and a half weeks time. After giving birth to Lhaklar, she had gone from wearing a size 38C bra to a 40C; it looked like her breasts were still that size. Her hips were the same; her curves were the same; she still had that fine, feminine musculature to her—which was very deceiving! She looked very feminine, and she looked to possess little to no muscle on her when, in reality, she was very strong and well-muscled. It also looked like she had that same fire in her as well.

"Angel!" KurukVile was shouting.

"Hey! Hey, Girl, hey!' DuruVile was near to screaming.

"I had no idea! I saw him and thought... I didn't mean..." TrobrencusVile was saying over and over again.

"Lass! Lass... Angel!" ShaamVile was near to roaring.

It was only when his wife released her hold of Bile's shirt that he went as quiet as could be; he watched as she looked at her oldest son, then turned to look at the son that they had created out of wed-lock. The woman, who he had fallen madly in-love with, held her arms out to their son. She softened her face a little, then beckoned for him to come to her; he knew exactly what the lovely woman was doing—this was a mother's way to get her misbehaving offspring to think that all was a-okay and that it was safe for them to come forward. It reality, what his wife was doing was nothing more than a put-on show—she wanted Lhaklar to come to her and she felt that a deceiving move would do the trick in getting that want. His son, both surprisingly and non-surprisingly, took the bait; he went towards the woman that had birthed him.

TazirVile laid his hand flat against the exterior wall of the shield right when his wife grabbed their oldest son, and then her oldest son, by the sleeves of their shirts; he was treated to being zapped back right when she started throwing her sons around, and right when some of the men surrounding the shield stopped calling out to her. After returning to where the shield was, he started up on calling out to her on not hurting to boys and to calm down—his nephew, in stark contrast to him, was just as quiet as could be; the man, who had a better than good view of what was going on in the shield, was happy over what he was seeing. In his eyes, his daughter, who he had taken on as a wife through Family Law, had done a full 180 degrees in getting tougher on Bile—he saw this as a good thing.

"You both deliberately disobeyed me!" Angel exclaimed. "What were you two thinking? Come here and think they won't find you? Come here, hide in the grass, and think they won't walk by and see you? All of them are dangerous! All of them can injure both of you greatly—"

"I-I-I-I apologize ma," Bile was near to collapsing to his knees; he had seen his mother get mad from time to time, and he had seen his mother get really mad from time to time, but he had only seen her get this way three or four times. It was scary—she was scaring him to death—and, what was worse, there were witnesses. "I came here. He—" he pointed at his brother, who was twisting and turning every which way in an attempt to get out from their mother's iron-clad grip. "—tried to stop me... he didn't want to follow me out here but he d—"

"I don't give a damn! You both came here against me! You both disobeyed me!"

"I'm s-s-s-s..." Bile's fear overcame him; his legs gave out on him right when the women joined the men in their chorus of yelling, screaming, shouting, and roaring.

"Get up!" Angel yelled. She pulled her son to his feet then pushed him forward; she practically threw Lhaklar in his direction. "You two head on home now. You're grounded."

"Mom—"

"A week—say a word more and you'll have more added on. There's a mountain of dishes that has your name on it, Bile. Lhaklar, you have a big pile of clothes and the floors to clean up. I'll think up the rest when we get home."

"Mom..." Lhaklar said weakly. When she looked at him, he hunched his shoulders then turned; he teleported from the small shield, then appeared near to where the outside edge of the shield that surrounded his family's resident town was, then walked through. He went home afterwards.

"Ma, it was me that had him coming here. Give me his punishment, it should all be mine, not—" Bile started to say. When his mother ran at him, he was fast in getting out of her way; he did as his brother had in teleporting from the shield that was over them. Once he was in front of the shield that was over the town of Green River, Wyoming, he ran through; his heart was in his throat the entire time he was running home.

Angel, after seeing that her two sons were doing as she had told them to, and after seeing that they knew that she was serious in being mad at them, turned; she glared at the people who had gathered around her small, clear shield then did as her sons had in teleporting from the area. The small shield disappeared right after she went into the one that was over the town that she and her family lived in.


	21. Chapter 21

From The Zeta Baiteen _Haron_ , September 10, 4099 (Page 1)  
Finally Sighted—Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit Seen With Sons

After calling Upegt Ulinaph's show, Exposure Hour, and then giving her adopted daughter, EshalVile Eskara Surfeit, a tip on where she and her children are, Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit became scarce for nearly two weeks. Even though there were plenty of sightings, and reported encounters, with two of her sons she was not seen for a while; it's being reported that that is now history. Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, according to some sources, was seen alive and well just two days ago—she was no less spectacular in her first-recognized sighting than in the one that was noted on August 15.

While the cause for the sighting isn't fully known, it is known that she was seen as retrieving her two sons, Bile Vile, who is sired by her own father, Master Vile, and LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, who is sired by TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, who were noted as being in close proximity to the camps that the Surfeit, Vile, Ubalki, Hyunduzia, Doshluna, Verobari, Sebatu, Bedali, Iovides, Palus, and Veonim families, and Gloar Rovnitov, are living in.

The woman, who's known on her planet of birth as Miss. Angel Irene, but who's known all throughout the Universe as Mrs. Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, is reputed to of put a sheild over her sons; after some quarreling, she had them exit her created shield and then head for an undisclosed location. Neither she nor they have been seen in two days.

From The Zeta Thupsaloff _Juynal_ , September 13, 4099 (Page 2)  
Who Is The Unknown Youth?

Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, Bile Vile, and LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit have all been seen and identified; the unknown youth that was seen on Zeta Ren with Mrs. Vile-Surfeit hasn't been seen since his run-in with Amadh Ubalki, the brother-in-law of Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, and the uncle of her two, still-living sons, and, as of this current date, has yet to be fully identified. All attempts have been made to make an identification on who the youth is; photographs have been analyzed, fliers have been handed out, broadcasts have been done on him, and a hotline for information has been set up. All everyone knows is that he was signed in at Googles For All, a business owned and operated by Navub Babusa, who is an Optometrist, with the name of Reezal Bakerly; Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, who was with him at the reported signing, claimed him as a child of hers.

Does this mean that Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit had an affair during her days of disappearance, or could the child be related to the more dominate of her two husbands, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit? Mrs. Vile-Surfeit has a history of paying Gamma Vile's most secure building, the Sperm Ward, where sperm from the M-51 Galaxy's most prominent families is kept, visits and she has a history of taking samples of her more dominate husband's sperm from the building; after one of her visitations, and sperm withdrawals, she caught pregnant with her thirdborn son, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit. Mrs. Vile-Surfeit also has a history of running amok with another man—the name on this man isn't known, but it is known that she was with him both before and after her two, older sons were born.

TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, the husband of the woman who's got more than half of the Universe's eyes and ears on her, claims to not know who the youth that she claimed as her son is; despite the claim, he's saying that he'll be bringing him home with him, his wife, and Bile and Lhaklar after they've been tracked down and then captured. Though the number of offspring conceived to the woman between her disappearing date and now isn't known it's estimated that she may have anywhere between two and six others living with her.

Mrs. Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, and her two surviving sons, haven't been seen, or heard from, in nearly a week.

From The Zeta Makkas _Tymes_ , September 18, 4099 (Page 2)  
HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit—Is He Still Alive?

Although Bile Vile and LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit have been seen, and have been said to be very healthy, there is still no word on whether or not HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, the secondborn son of Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit and TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, is alive or not. He hasn't been seen nor has he been spoken of by the two older offspring that Mrs. Vile-Surfeit has and Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, upon being seen on September 8, spoke not a word on the youngster either. The planet where Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, and her two, older sons, have been noted as being on has gone through numerous plagues and natural disasters over the last twenty-one hundred years; DuruVile Surfeit, the great-grandfather of Mrs. Vile-Surfeit and her oldest son, and the grandfather of LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, says that it's highly likely that the youngster perished in one of the plagues or natural disasters. TazirVile Surfeit had nothing to say on the issue when it was brought up.

Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, Bile Vile, and LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit haven't been seen for a week and three days now.

From The Zeta Makkas _Tymes_ , September 20, 4099 (Page 3)  
One Week, Five Days After Sighting—Report From Surfeit Camp

TazirVile Surfeit, as of the last few days, has been sending small platoons of his Goblin army into the shields of the surrounding communities of the counties that are situated around Green River, Wyoming—a place that was hit especially hard two hundred years ago by the Plague of the Mosquitoes, which claimed more than two billion lives, and which caused a major change in climate to be experienced in the northern Atlantic and Pacific countries of the planet Earth. With no sightings of his wife, or of Bile Vile and LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, for over a week, he decided to take it into his own on trying to find them by scaring them out into the open—none of the platoons that he sent into the shields encountered any of his missing family, or the youth that is known to be with them.

The four members of the Vile-Surfeit family are said to be living somewhere near to where Expedition Island, a location that is situated on the Green River, which flows through the western-lying state of Wyoming. Although nothing, and no one, has been found, TazirVile Surfeit is remaining hopeful that something will be found and that his Universal Wife of twenty-one hundred years, and their children, and the unknown youth, will be returned to his home on Moas.

"I looooove reporters! They're like broken fuckin' records. Report something then change it up for the next report." Bile tossed the newspaper that he had just gotten through reading behind him. "That makes the eighth article in two weeks on us."

"Bet there's many more—these are just from that Zeta Riticuli system." Lhaklar said as he took the paper that his brother had just thrown up. Working fast, he clipped the article that was on the paper's third page out then slipped it into his folder. "We should start charging for each article. Five dollars per article written."

"Doubt if anyone would bite." Bile said.

At first, they had been grounded for just a week; an extra three days was added after Bile went and opened his mouth after their mother gave the warning of there being more added to their punishment if they said another word.

Soon after getting home, then seeing Bile giving Hazaar his camera back, she had gone forward to separate them and to see what was on the camera; after hearing that the camera was Hazaar's, and that Hazaar had asked them to take pictures of what all was in the camp that they weren't allowed to be near, Hazaar had also been punished.

Bile had done nothing but dish cleaning, dusting, and attic re-organizing; Lhaklar had been given four days worth of laundry, leave raking, and tree-removal; and Hazaar had been given the order to clean the apartment's carpets, check the attic for leaks, and then fix what all leaks he found, and then wash and wax their mother's car. After doing that, they had been given nothing but outside chores. Bile had been told to sweep the sidewalk, and then take everything that was in the cellar out; he had cleaned everything that was in the cellar before putting it back in. Lhaklar had been told to fill in the holes that the Shrews, Prairie dogs, and pocket gophers had made; he had also been told to take down ten of the bushes that were getting too bushy and to burn the trash that had been in their three metal trash cans. Hazaar had done the chore of collecting the downed sticks and twigs and he had also picked up plenty of tumbleweeds and small-range cactus. They had then been told to redo the apartment's gutters, downspouts, and the shingles that were on the roof; this latter chore had taken them three days to do.

Their mother, right after getting home from work, had taken a lounge chair out from the attic; she had sat and watched as they, her punishment-leaden Loyal Subjects, had done what she had given them to do. She had looked very much like a Queen on them days and they had treated her as such—Lazeer had even paid homage to her by bringing her tall glasses of lemonade, sandwiches, or snacks. It had rained on three of the days that they had been given outside chores; their mother had still insisted on their going out to do what she had given them to do—a raincoat a-piece, galoshes, and gloves had all been given to them then they had been marched out the back door.

They were let off the hook a week and three days after their punishment was given to them; though tired from their ordeal, and though suffering from withdrawals in having their habits be put to a crash-halt for all of that week and three days, they had learned to not ever cross their mother's given orders again.

That morning, a week and five days after their punishment was given to them, and two days after getting a reprieve from that punishment, they woke to finding a plate a-piece on the table that had three strawberry pancakes on it; sausage links and scrambled eggs had also been made for them. The mass amount of papers, that had come in over the last week and five days, had also been found as being on the table; he and his brothers had read through each of the articles that had been written on them before putting them down—Bile had just gotten through re-reading the latter four, and he had just gotten through clipping the articles that had been written on them from each paper, when Hazaar asked a question.

"So," the second oldest of his younger brothers said. "You know everyone who's in the camp?"

"Almost all," their mother replied.

"Who don't you know?" Hazaar asked.

"Some of the smaller kids—they were probably born after your brother was."

Hazaar's camera, a Nik-54 Special, which had been purchased two winters ago, and which had cost their mother a good $125, hadn't been seen for days after being confiscated. Hazaar had lamented its loss, and had been very cold towards both he and Bile, for all of six days before stopping; on the sixth day of their punishment, he had woke to discover it resting on his dresser. The clip had been in it, but all of what Bile had captured on film hadn't—their mother had, apparently, deleted each of the photographs, and the video, that Bile had taken.

One day after their punishment was lifted from their shoulders, they had found an envelope full of pictures under their pillows; their mother had gone out of her way to get around half of what Bile had photographed developed, she had also written who it was in the photograph on the photograph's back. With the exception of six of the photographs that had been found in their given envelopes all had been written on. The photographs of their father had been the first ones that Hazaar and Lazeer had seen of the man—they had been too little at the time of their "disappearance" to form any good memories of the man.

As it just so happened, Lazeer had the picture of their father in his hands; he was noting what the man looked like and he was also taking a keen interest in the pair of glasses that the man was wearing.

"So... he's where I get my bad eye from?" Lazeer asked without looking up from the photograph.

"Yes dear. Although you got the better end of the stick—he has the severe ailment, you have the mild." their mother replied. "And it effects both of his eyes, not just one."

"Although I don't see me getting the better end of the stick I am glad that it's just one eye that I have problems with." Lazeer said as he put the photograph away.

"He also has skin that burns easily. If he's outside for real long periods of time, like over four hours, his skin gets burned." their mother said. "He has to take a medicated bath, and then apply a special lotion and cream, after getting sunburned. Poor thing."

"Momma's still in love with the old man." Hazaar plopped his elbow on the table then placed his chin on the back of his hand; he gave her one of them lovey-duvey looks, which she rolled her eyes at.

"Yes, honey. I still love you father."

"I'm glad that I didn't get his skin problems—I can be outside for more than four hours and not have my skin get burned." Lazeer said.

"I'll be honest with you, Lazeer—I thought that you _would_ have it. When you were a very young baby, you went from having very light blue skin to having periwinkle-blue skin—glad you don't have his skin-issues either. I have enough trouble with getting you to leave the house, don't need to have you lamenting over easily burnt skin now." their mother said.

"So... does this discovery of what pop has to deal with, and worry over, on a daily basis mean that you'll stop complaining about your little eye problem?" Bile asked his brother.

"Hell no!" Lazeer crossed his arms then put on a pouting face.

"You need a girlfriend—you are just adorable!" Hazaar teased his younger brother.

"I start leaving the house and you'll find all of them girlfriends of yours flocking over to me." Lazeer replied. "I'm cuter."

"I have more hair."

"Really?" Lazeer ran his hands over the sides, and then around the back, of his head. "I didn't notice."

"Women dig the rattail—the 1980's are calling for you. They want their hair-style back." Hazaar said.

"Man the 1980's can keep calling—I was born this way and I'm staying this way." Lazeer said as he got up from the table. "They're calling you as well—rattails were big back then; they fell out of favor after the early two thousand's."

"Really? I'll remember that tonight. I have a razor all ready with your name on it." the corners of Hazaar's O-shaped mouth curved up sharply; he smiled evilly at his little brother.

"Do that and your rattail will be waving hello to you from the flagpole outside the library." Lazeer replied. "And probably bye-bye as well."

Angel couldn't help but beam in pride at her sons; even though they had faced a lot over the years, they were a strong bunch—she was even more prideful over the fact that all of them had survived during the years where the plagues, climage changes, and natural disasters had happened. Initially, she had been quite fearful over Lazeer not being able to make it to being in that stage where he could sit up on his own—after leaving Tazir, she had feared that he'd not do well; he had been so sick, and so weak at that time, and the decision that she had made hadn't been of the well-planned sort. Just... hearing that her father was planning on taking her away from her children, and then forcing her to forget about them, had caused her to freak out; once that decision was made she hadn't been able to throw it to the side. She had taken each of her sons up from bed, had told them to hold tight to her, then had teleported to where the complex of tunnels, that led to Dione's underground, and underwater, castle, were.

Bile and Lhaklar, she remembered, had been looking at this thing that was in the tunnel that they had traveled down and then that thing and then at this shadow and then that shadow; Hazaar and Lazeer had just been as quiet as could be during that whole walk—which she had been glad for. Having two infants crying, and then worrying about the weaker of the two succumbing to a heart ailment that was caused by his hysteria, had not been needed at that time. After reaching Dione's castle, then giving Hazaar over to Bile, she had yelled; it had taken all of ten minutes of yelling before the castle's door had opened, and before the castle's owner came out. Dione, as expected, had broke down in tears right after seeing her; they had been ushered in, the older boys had been placed in a room, then told to go to sleep, then she, Hazaar, and Lazeer had gone with Dione for a small chat.

Everything of what had happened over the last six hundred years had been told, what her father had promised had been told, and the reason behind their being there had been told. Dione, and her daughter and granddaughter, who had just gotten up to see what was going on, had listened to every word that she had said; after speaking her mind, and spilling the history of what she had gone through in the last six hundred years, Dione had said that she would be more than glad to have them stay with her.

Dione had fallen in love with her sons from almost the moment she had laid eye on them; the woman, who had, at one time, carried, and then lost, a son, had done all that she could to help her in the raising of her sons. Perniceie and Azura had also put in a good lot of help as well but, for the most part, it had been Dione who held the credit for helping her during the first two hundred years that she, and her sons, had been on Earth. This "infatuation" with her sons had been the thing that had caused her to make the decision in moving them out from the castle—the planet had been going through a tumultuous period of plagues, natural disasters, wars, and climate changes before this decision was made, which was why they hadn't just gone and gotten some help from the present human population, who would of probably also put in a gallant effort in on helping them.

Again, when the decision to move out from under the three's castle was made, she, and her sons, had stole away during the night hours; she, and they, had settled down in Oklahoma first before moving up to Canada—just after settling in, another plague had struck; it had either be they move up north, where the plague hadn't been able to gain much of a foothold on the populace, or they move back in with Dione, Perniceie, and Azura. As expected, the three had started looking for them right after they left their castle; about a month after settling down in Oklahoma, then starting to get in with the groove of living above-ground, they had found them. She and they had spoken at length on why they had left; while she liked to think that they had understood her reason for leaving—to be the mother that she wanted to be, and to allow her sons to have the life that they should be allowed to have—she also worried that they had grown angered over her taking off with the boys.

She wrote them several times a week, and she went to see them about once a month; at around the time that she paid them a visit, they came over to see the boys. Each of her sent letters were replied to; none of the women were giving away any vibes that gave her cause to be concerned, or seemed to be acting in any way, shape, or form angry with her over her decision to leave their roof and then seek out a roof of her own. Along with sending letters to Dione, Perniceie, and Azura, she also sent letters to Atlas.

"Don't think I've ever seen a man get so depressed before in my life!" she thought as she watched her youngest son leave the kitchen.

Atlas, who was usually so well-groomed, and who usually was so strong in muscle, had let himself go down the drain after she, Bile, and Lhaklar were taken away; upon coming back, then having their secret of being back on the planet be exposed, he had come racing over to Dione's castle—she had not recognized him! His hair had nearly gone down to his butt; a quite heavy, gray and light brown beard and mustache had been on his face; the light in his eyes had nearly been gone; he had looked about thirty or so pounds lighter... he had just been in poor shape. Only after taking care of himself—of cutting his hair, then getting rid of his beard and mustache—had she recognized him; until doing them two things, she had refused to have him anywhere near her or the boys.

A sort of mutiny had happened in his stronghold about fifty years after she and her two, older sons were taken to Gamma Vile; one of his former, fellow clansman had thrown him, and his two, older sons, out of the tribe and then taken over. His wife, and their daughters, and the members of his harem, had been forced to stay behind—Dione had managed to save Helen, but she hadn't paid much mind to helping her daughters in getting out of the situation. After she returned to Earth, then was shown to him, he did a full-360; he beefed himself up—got stronger—, then started training again, then went to his former home to battle the man who had taken over his leadership. From what she had been told, he had won his former seat of power back in a little under thirty minutes.

Atlas's two, grown sons had moved back into the stronghold right after their father's former seat was reclaimed; everything of what had been overthrown by the usurper was reinstated, the people had been looked after, the wrecked or damaged buildings had been rebuilt, and the old life that his people had formerly been living had been resumed. It had taken six months before she had been allowed to go to the stronghold to check it out; with the exception of a few dozen buildings, which hadn't been there before, the place looked much the same. All of Atlas's harem had birthed sons and daughters by their former leader; Atlas had acted like a lion in disposing them offspring right after taking his seat of power back—Aphra, Alexis, and Selma had mourned the children, yes, but they hadn't stopped him from disposing their young. From what she had been told, the three had been forced into having their children and then they had also been forced to have intercourse with their sons after their sons reached their adult years. Atlas still had control of his stronghold and people; at present, he just had a new son and daughter—Aphra, Alexis, and Selma had declared themselves "infertile" to him as a way to not have children for a while. Atlas, from what she had been told, was being accepting of their "infertility".

"Bathilda—my mother/sister—was the only one to not be involved in the siege. Around five or so years after I, Bile, and Lhaklar were taken from the planet she was kicked out from the stronghold; she took up residence in a cave in Crete soon after being ousted from the stronghold." she thought as she stood, then went to get her things ready.

The woman who had birthed, and raised, her was still alive; she made a point to visit her once a year. Bathilda had seen all of her sons; quite surprisingly, she didn't get along with Bile, Hazaar, or Lazeer. She seemed to get along fine with Lhaklar, though.

Lazeer had gotten stronger with each passing year; if not for her, and her constant tending, and natural milk, he wouldn't be with them now. They had been living in Green River, Wyoming for a little over three hundred and twenty-two years; the apartment had not been in the town nor had it been in the county or even state of Wyoming at the time of their moving here. One day, just before the move to their current town was made, she had made a trip to New York to look into the available apartments that were just being let to waste. After nearly two hours of looking, and of breaking into this apartment and then the next one, she had settled on the one that they were living in; a small use of her Ground Elemental powers had been done to flip the ground that was under the apartment over. The apartment had been sitting, and waiting, for them about five minutes later, after the location for their new residence was picked.

She, and her sons, three of whom had been at school, but who had been given the distinct privilege of going home for a two-week vacation at the time, had fixed it up; after the water and sewer pipes were hooked up, and then the electrical wires fixed, or added to the interior walls, they had practically found themselves as having to rebuild it from scratch—with the exception of the water maintenance man, and the electrician, they had gotten little to no help in getting set-up in their new home.

"With it being the oldest structure in town, it's required more than enough repairs over the years." she thought.

Though comfortable, she did wish that it had more than two rooms in it; her sons had been forced to room by two's for much of their lives—with the exception of Bile and Lhaklar, who had experienced having rooms of their own, Hazaar and Lazeer had never had a room of their own and didn't know what it was like to have a room to just themselves. While she had had a mind to get them a bigger place to live in, that had move than two bedrooms in it, and maybe another bathroom, she had kept them living in the apartment—she had grown fearful over her husband finding them; a bigger place might well cause more attention to be drawn to them, which they didn't need. She was honestly surprised over their not being discovered sooner—though they kept things quiet, and stayed to themselves, they hadn't been living underground, or had been hidden from anyone; people on the planet knew of their being here and, from time to time, an off article about them would surface in the paper.

While her sons were busy with their given punishment, and with Lazeer busy with his depression, she had taken time out to watch the program that had been done on her and her sons last month. According to the program, Tazir, Qeeta, and the Ubalki's had been searching for her and her sons for sixteen hundred years—for about as long as they had been gone from Moas. Everyone else in her family had stopped looking for them; her grandfather had been said to of put a halt to looking for her and her sons after seven hundred years had passed, her great-grandfather and father had done two hundred years of searching before stopping, and her great-great grandfather had put a stop to looking for her and her sons after three hundred years had passed.

With all of their attempts in trying to find her now known, she was surprised that they hadn't turned an eye to Earth long before now—Tazir had had an interest in Earth once, she now recalled; there had been a lot of people walking around, being scared out of their wits ends, about the Goblins after he finally made the decision to leave the planet. She and her sons hadn't been found because of the pure fact of their being with Dione; if not for their being with Dione, and her brood, at the time, they would of probably been found.

"Alright boys, you know the drill." she said loud enough for all of her sons, even the ones who had made the decision to leave the kitchen, to hear. " Everyone out—the house will be locked up tight so—"

"We're homeless!" Lazeer shrieked from the next room over. "Someone save us! Our mommy is kicking us out!"

"Not that! Anything but that!" Bile dropped to his knees, then grabbed for his mother's hands. She held them just barely out of his reach. "Please don't kick me out, ma. I'll be good—I wish to live with you forever!"

"We'll all have to get jobs now!" Hazaar threw his hands at the ceiling. "Not that!"

"I'll be supporting these slackers for the rest of my life if you kick us out!" Lhaklar was hiding the laugh that wanted to come out.

"You boys are insane!" Angel said to her sons. "Just plain insane!"

"We're your insane sons!" Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer said together.

"I have work to go to now; I'm locking this place up tight. I'll see all of my precious babies when I get off." Angel made her rounds; she gave each of her sons a hug, then a kiss, then she escorted them outside. With everyone out of the apartment, she locked the door then walked away.

"She says she's going to work when, really, she's going to see her lover." Lazeer said. He didn't say this in a whisper—his mother heard him loud and clear. Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar gasped, then stepped out of the way. Angel turned around.

"Yes, my dear, sweet, baby boy. I _am_ heading to see my lover—the Deli department at Food Lion. Wish me luck in not coming home with a little brother, or sister, in-tote." their mother said.

"That makes some very disturbing images to appear in my mind, ma." Bile said. His brothers started laughing.

"See all of you when I get back. Stay in the shield—I mean it, now."

"We will." her sons said.

As his employer's wife was heading off to work, he, Eldass J. Zultoa, was staring at what was going on before him—he was in shock; while he was just barely out of view of the humans his co-worker, Homsi K. Modulavich, was standing in plain view. The humans were going by their own; they were shopping, or going through the check-out, or putting their collected items on the register's conveyor belt, or bagging groceries, or talking all while a living, breathing Goblin stood a mere foot to two feet from them. As if this shock wasn't bad enough, his co-worker was also not standing very still—Homsi, who was standing just before the check-out's refreshment stand, which had more than enough of the store's candy bars on it, had taken more than five candy bars from the stand since taking up position before it. Homsi had also opened and then eaten the candy bars that he had taken from the stand; the humans had not noticed his eating the bars or his act of throwing the wrappers that came from his just-eaten candy bars behind him.

Since taking up position, he had neither moved or made a sound; he made the decision to not do the former now—he put the humans to the test in seeing if they'd see, and then react to, his movement. He gestured to his co-worker, then pointed at the stand that he was standing before; Homsi, who looked as cool, and as calm, as could be, reached behind him right after seeing his movement. A candy bar was removed from the stand, then thrown to him; the humans neither noticed the bar as it flew across the aisle or when it bounced against his leg. When he moved from his stationed place to retrieve the bar, no one ran off, screaming in utter terror, or made any comments on him.

The candy bar, which had a mostly white wrapper around it, that had the words Hershey's Cookies 'n' Cream on it, was picked up, then opened, then eaten. Again, the humans neither took notice of his movement or reacted to his presence; he found this to be both confusing and surprising—it being early morning to the side, they should of reacted to his many-made movements.

"I want you two to look into the city of Green River today. See what's there—if, at around noon, you've not seen anything, you return. Got me?" Master Tazir had said to him, and Homsi, who he had just grabbed from the hallway, about thirty minutes ago.

"Crystal, sir." Homsi had said.

"Yessir." he had said.

Their employer, over the last few weeks, had forgotten all about the nearby city of Green River; after realizing his mistake, he had formulated a plan to have it searched—he and Homsi had been given that job right after finishing a quick breakfast. Right after going into the shield that surrounded the city, then doing a preliminary look of what they were told to search, they had both deduced that the city wasn't a city anymore—by standards, it looked more like a large town than that of a city to them. They had searched the eastern part of the town first, then a small portion of the town's center, before deciding to head to its western side; a train station, with adjoining train yard, had been checked, as had a bunch of abandoned buildings and apartment complexes, before the decision of grabbing one of the out and about humans was made—the two of them had grown frustrated over not seeing anything at the time. Green River looked to have around three to four hundred humans in it and it looked like all of that population was out; with what they had seen on the program nearly two weeks ago heavy on their minds, they had made the decision to hurry their search along—worry over their employer's wife, and sons, growing sick from breathing in air, that could well still be contaminated by the recent plague, had been on their minds at the time.

A man, who had long, black hair, and a very rail-thin body, had been plucked from a bus station that was located two miles from where they were; after gagging him, then binding his wrists and ankles together, they had dragged him around the corner to an unoccupied alley, where a sort of interrogation had happened. At first, the man had refused to speak; two back-slaps, a punch, and then the threat of having his intestines pulled out had done the trick in changing his mind. The man had identified the one in the picture that they had shown him then he had said that she worked at the Food Lion that was location on Brooks Boulevard—the Memory Block spell had been used just before they shoved off; instead of returning the man to the bus station, they had just left him behind in the alley.

Neither of them felt, or expressed, any form of loyalties towards any of the humans who wandered the planet; there was no reason for them to be polite or nice, or be presentable, to the humans. They were only there to find their employer's wife and sons.

The building that they were in was one of them one-level types; it was large, it had a large parking lot before it, and it had a loading dock in the back. The sign that was over the building's roof said, in loud, red and yellow letters, _Food Lion, The Nations Best_. After going in, then doing the run and then duck routine, they had taken up position before Register 4—which was half-busy at the moment. On estimate, they had seen somewhere around thirty or so humans; most of who they had seen had been pushing blue carts, or carrying blue baskets, or carrying a young child in their arms while also trying to juggle the items that they had taken from the store's various shelves.

"One set of eyes in one location is enough, maybe one of us should head to another part of the store." he thought as he gestured for his co-worker to throw him one of the candy bars that he seemed to have a fancy for. Of the seven candy bars that Homsi had taken from the candy bar stand, six had been of the same kind; a silver-wrapped candy bar had been the first candy bar that his co-worker had taken from the stand, the rest had had a dark wrapper around them. Homsi was fast in plucking one of them candy bars from the stand; he threw it across the aisle then slid his hands into his pants pockets.

With the bar in hand, he moved off. The bar, when opened, and then removed from its wrapper, was a dark chocolate color; there were all sorts of what-he-thought-was white sprinkles over the bar's sides and top. Upon taking a bite of the potato-shaped bar, he found that the "sprinkles" weren't sprinkles—they were white chocolate pieces. The inside of the bar was dominated by marshmallow, which was covered in a thick coating of cocoa-flavored chocolate. He finished the candy bar, then dropped its wrapper behind him, then went towards the store's Deli—while he was okay with having an occasional candy bar he wasn't okay with having them all the time; he was more for healthy eating, which consisted of part vegetable and fruit and meat.

He knew a great deal of his co-worker; having worked alongside him for over twenty thousand years, and with being a friend of his, he knew that he wasn't a big consumer of candy. Homsi, though no health freak by any means, was more for eating the same stuff that he did. From what he was able to make out, his co-worker looked to of been bored; Homsi, he deduced, had been eating the candy out of pure boredom.

After entering the store's Deli session, he ran to where the hot carts were; he was just taking up position underneath one of them when his employer's wife entered the store.

"Hey Charles," Angel said to the manager.

"You're late!" Charles Binkleton, a red-haired man, who had freckles all over his face, and a pug-like nose, said. "We've lost hundreds because of you! Our customer count for the morning plummeted, and we've had to chase down two thievin' punks—thanks to you not being here, we lost 'em! Your tardiness will cost you a hundred dollars from your next paycheck."

"Really? My inner clock, and the clock that's on the wall above your head, says that I'm right on time."

"You are no fun." Charles chuckled. "How're the boys?"

"Doing well—had to kick 'em all out this morning. They're all out and about—wandering the town."

"There will be four babies per hour plopped on your doorstep." Charles said. "How in the world aren't you married or engaged or something? Surely someone with four sons needs a mature man in the house to keep things in order."

"A mother has her ways to keep not just her sons or daughters in order but also her husband." Angel said. She gave Charles a wink, then punched her ticket in; the green apron, that had the words _Food Lion Deli_ on the front, was taken from her cubby-space and then put on afterwards.

The woman who had just come in was said to be the store's longest-employed employee—she had come in, asking for a job, about fifteen years ago; though having her position in the store changed twice over the years, she had continued working for them.

The story around her asking for a job went something like this: the old manager, a mid-aged man named Jacques something-or-another, had just about had a heart attack after seeing her step foot in the store. This man had also come close to needing a new pair of underwear after she had asked him if there was a job opening in the store. At the time of her appearance, and question-doing, she had just come back from the premier of the big blockbuster that was known far and wide as Helen Erupts—which she had done the special effects for.

Naturally, Helen Erupts had been based on the happenings of Mount St. Helens's eruption, which happened some eight hundred years ago, and which had claimed somewhere around four thousand lives; it had brought in more than enough money, and had garnered better than exceptional reviews, to assure it the Movie of the Year title and it had also brought in enough money to make most everyone who had been apart of its production rich. Apparently, Miss. Irene hadn't been one of the people who had gotten rich from the movie—from what he had been told, the woman had only done the movie as a way to get her kids through the final years of their schooling, and to gain some money for the repairs that were needed to be done on her lived-in apartment.

Helen Erupts wasn't the only blockbuster that the woman's name was on; she had also done the special efforts for Volcano Eruption—a film that's plot revolved around the happenings of the dual-eruptions of Mount Shasta, Mount St. Helens, and Krakatoa—, Shake—a strangely titled film that's plot revolved around the happenings of the major earthquake that had been felt from California on back to the States' middle-lying states, and all the way to Japan and the far eastern edge of Eurasia—, and Water Works—a mostly fictional film that's plot revolved around what had happened after Florida had been overrun by the ocean. Over the four years that he had been working in the store, he had learned that she had done all of them movies, along with the other, non-blockbuster movies that her name was also accredited to, as a way to gain revenue so her kids could go to school, and so the repairs that were needed to be done on the apartment could be done before the Condemned sticker was placed to their door.

"Working in the movie industry is tough, Charles." he recalled her telling him once. "You spend days, and sometimes even weeks, or months, away from your family; the directors and producers are very strict on when their crew can leave the set, and they're also strict on phone call placements, food intake, on and off-set conversation, and rest. After the premier of Helen Erupts, I had no other interest in making movies—I wanted a normal-paying job, that's hours are more normal, and trouble-free, that'd allow me to be around my family."

This woman, who had better than flaming-red hair on her head, which cast a red glow to the surfaces around her to boot, had given birth to four sons, all of whom were much older than any known human known in existence—this woman was also quite ancient herself, which was funny, seeing as she looked no older than thirty-three. Her four sons, three who had been sired by the same man while the oldest had been sired by the same man who had sired his mother, were a good bunch; they were polite, respectful, very well behaved, and they were also quite protective of their mother—he didn't need to know how close they were to her; he could just look at them, and their actions when they were in the store, and around their mother, to know that they were very close to her.

He, who had dropped out of college to be a drummer in a band, that had gone no where and fast, had been more than honored to be working alongside this woman, and he was more than honored to know that she lived in his town and that he was able to see her kids on a one to two-day basis. He didn't have to worry about her kids coming in, causing all manner of mischief, and he didn't have to worry about their stealing anything—if they took something from the store shelves, they always paid for it. Miss. Irene was a right attentive woman to her kids, and she did as much as she could for them—just last year, for example, she had taken off work to take care of her youngest, who had come down with a right nasty bout of the flu that had been going around. She had also taken off work after learning that one of the older boys had gotten right roughed up after picking a fight with the wrong man.

He had to admire her; he had no crushes or anything on her, but he did admire her. The reason for his admiration mainly revolved around his own mother not being around when he was growing up—it had just been he and his half-there father, who wouldn't know the wall if it was staring him in the face. For the most part, he had been financially helped along by his aunt and uncle, Robin and Gary Binkleton.

Charles Binkleton, a college drop-out, who lived in a one-bedroom apartment near to where he worked at, and who was twenty-nine years old, unmarried, and childless, ducked to pick up the pen that he had just dropped; his action in doing this caused him to miss seeing the arm of the unknown Goblin playing the "fool-around" routine on one of the store's Deli's hot carts—the arm reached over the side of the hot cart, then felt around for a second or two before being pulled back, a low hiss of pain was barely able to be heard before the arm went back to work in feeling around. Charles had just taken his pen up when the hand that was on the arm grabbed and then yanked the leg of the hot cart's BBQ chicken; the arm jerked, the chicken leg was pulled clean off the bird then disappeared under the cart. The one who owned the arm, and the hand that was on the arm, was just finishing it when Angel was walking past the hot cart; she, for no reason at all, looked down after coming upon the cart.

"Hey Christie, are our little menaces still paying us visits?" she asked the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who was behind the counter in her department.

"Unfortunately!" Christie replied. "Why?"

"This chicken is missing its leg."

"That's why we ladies have to wear stockings to work—the rodents have an appetite for legs."

"What's going on out here?" Charles asked. The conversation on stockings was just too much for him; he had to see what was going on and he had to see about becoming involved in the conversation.

"Angel says there's a chicken over there sans its leg." Christie reported.

"Thought I told our pesty rodent fiends to keep their fingers off the merchandise." Charles rolled his eyes; they had been having problems with mice for years now. With each passing day, it seemed that their pest problem was getting worse. The many traps that were behind the store caught anywhere between ten and twenty mice every night; despite the use of the traps, he still found mouse droppings all over the store's interior each morning—it was like the rodents decided to throw a party after the lights were downed and the humans went home. "Toss it out—the rats and raccoons behind the store can have the thing."

"Be glad it's just the mice that we have to deal with—I'd hate to know what the rats and raccoons would do if they managed to get in the store." Angel said as she took the pan that had the leg-less chicken on it up from the cart.

She went to the store's back, then pushed the door open with her elbow, then went past all of what had yet to be opened, inventoried, and then put on the store shelves. Piles of still-packaged cereal, still-boxed canned goods, and boxes of meat lined the walls of the storage area; the man who usually put the meat in the freezer until an opening was noted in the store's meat area was currently busy in getting a few packages of beef hamburger ready for the section that had been reserved for only hamburger meat. The meat that was needed to be put in the freezer until later would be put in their appropriate place in a few short minutes.

The store's back door was situated down a long, dim hallway; the floor was a lime green color, and was quite slick. Once she reached the door, she opened it then went out. She was quick in dumping the chicken in the dumpster; after dropping the leg-less bird, that would of fed a family of three if not for the "rodent" who had taken its leg, into the dumpster, she turned then went back to the store. Soon after re-entering the store, she stopped in her tracks—the door behind her had clicked shut, yes, but there had been a secondary clicking sound following that which had caught her immediate attention.

With a lump in her throat—one of her co-workers had nearly been raped back here two months ago; someone had had the nerve to take advantage of the dim lights, and the fact that not many traversed this part of the store—she turned around. What she saw made her pull back in shock—there was a Goblin standing by the store's exit.

"Mistress Angel," the Goblin, Eldass Jafeffon Zultoa, said. "it is nice to see you."


	22. Chapter 22

The Goblin before her she had known sixteen hundred years ago—she couldn't believe that he was here, at her workplace, or standing before her! This one, particular Goblin happened to be the longest employed man in her husband's service; along with being quite nice and polite around her he had also helped a great deal when she had been pregnant with Lhaklar, Hazaar, and then Lazeer. The man looked none different; there was no hint of malicious intent in his body language, and his eyes, which were as light and as crystal blue as ever, were very calm and non-evil. The man and she said nothing to one another for the longest of time; he just looked at her—her anxiety was automatically dropped by her act of simply looking at his eyes, and taking in his body language. The man, when he decided to step towards her, reached to the belt that was holding his white tuxedo pants up; his action of taking a communicator from his belt was no surprise to her—deep down, she had known that he'd go for such an item. Before the Goblin could use the device that he had just removed from his belt she reached down; the communicator was snatched from his hand, then held just barely out of his reach. The man neither made a sound, a comment, or acted in any way, shape, or form violent over having his communications device taken from him. After taking the communicator from him, she leaned against the wall.

"How'd you find me?" she asked.

"One of the humans near here said that you worked here." Eldass replied.

"Take it that Tazir did a follow-up on what I told his daughter a couple of weeks ago?" she asked. The Goblin nodded his head. "What's his purpose in looking for me and my boys?"

"My Mistress, your husband misses you, and your sons, greatly and only wishes to have you all back with him."

"Took him a rather long time to find us."

"He has been searching a very long time for you and the boys, Mistress."

She had no idea on what to do; she could turn and then flee, but Eldass might just give chase, or prevent her from doing so, which would cause a panic to happen in both her and the people who were in the store. If she called out for help, he might just rush towards her to silence her—a sort of sleeping agent might be on him; he might just use it on her to quiet her up and then get her "safely" removed from the building. It looked like the Goblin had locked the door; the lock on the store's exit sometimes stuck, so she wouldn't of been able to jiggle it free, and then undo it, and then run out of the store, before he laid hand on her.

At the moment, she was just glad that it was just her in the store's backroom; no one else need be here, to either be scared half to death or harmed, and her sons were well away from where she was. They were safe, that was the best thing.

Goblins were a tricky bunch; they could get into anything, and that included shields—they just walked in with little to no trouble at all, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop them either. The Goblin race, while highly intelligent, and powerful, was known well for how it regarded people that they had no association with—they treated ones that they didn't know with intense hatred, or dislike, or they just abused them. As far as she knew, there were only three beings in the Universe who incorporated Goblins in their armies—her husband, Tazir, was one of the three while the other two she couldn't remember the names of.

Angel used the communicator as a way to test the Goblin; she tossed it up and down a few times—Eldass neither called for help, or rushed forward to retrieve his device, or commented on her actions with it. He simply watched as the circular-shaped, dark silver device, that had a light gray speaker on its top, and two buttons—a red and a blue one—on its side, went up and down. After seeing that he was remaining placid with her, she returned the communicator; the Goblin, as expected, used it right after catching it after she threw it to him.

"Homsi, I have Mistress Angel in the backroom. Storage."

"On my way." the low, throaty-sounding voice, that belonged to none other than Homsi Modulavich, sounded from the device's speaker.

"Surprised that you didn't call Tazir first." Angel said.

"I will do that as soon as Homsi gets here," Eldass replied. "He was in the front of the—"

"Mistress Angel, how nice to finally see you after all these years!" Homsi said excitedly after throwing the doors to the backroom open. The doors swung shut behind him then latched to the padding—humanity had stopped using the type of doors that continued to swing back and forth after one walked through them a long time ago; a sort of padding, that had a good suction to it, had been applied to the doors of most businesses about five hundred and forty-eight years ago.

"Hello Homsi." Angel said.

"You've got two wonderful sons to be very proud of." Homsi said. He and Eldass now had Angel boxed in against the freezer door. "I do apologize for causing Young Master Bile to trip—I hope that he wasn't hurt."

"Nothing to worry over—he just came home with a doozy of a headache." Angel replied, then added, "Concrete and heads don't go good with one another. He slept it off."

"I'm glad that he got over it and is okay," Homsi replied. It was quiet between the three of them for thirty seconds before he spoke again. "Where are Young Master's Bile and Lhaklar, Mistress?"

"Not in this county." Angel lied.

The last plague that had run rampant on the planet was commonly called The Plague of the Mosquitoes by the humans; it was called this because of the mosquitoes, which had migrated from south Africa and then done a wild reproduction thing before moving in on north Africa, Europe, Eurasia, and then moving across the Pacific to Australia and the Americas. The mosquitoes had carried a strand of Malaria, which had evolved to become very deadly to the ones that were either susceptible to it or to the other diseases that a mosquito could pass off. In all, the mosquitoes had carried a type of disease that's symptoms were similar to Malaria, Dengue, and Yellow Fever—around two billion had succumbed to the mosquitoes, and their carry-on disease.

Quite interestingly, she and her sons seemed to of had a natural immunity to the mosquitoes that were reeking havoc on the human population; each of them were bit by the mosquitoes and not a single one of them had gotten sick or died afterwards.

Before moving to Sweetwater County, Green River, Wyoming, they had been living in Canada; the plague, while having reached that area, hadn't had as good of a go in creating trouble for the population. A hundred and twenty-two years before the last plague struck, she had made the decision to move them to Wyoming—word had reached her about the lower than usual property taxes that had just been incorporated in certain locations in the state; she had just had to look into it and then, after learning that it was true, and that Sweetwater County was one of the locations where the lower property taxes was being done in, she had moved herself and her children down. Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had been in school at the time of the decision-making, but they had been due to come home on a two-week run vacation soon.

Thinking fast, she started tallying the counties that were close to the one that she and her sons were living in; Fremont County was north of them, it was too close to her and her sons so she moved on to the next county—Fremont had been a modestly populated county before the plague struck. Though still populated, its numbers were very low. Sublette County was right beside Fremont County; it had been hit especially hard by the plague—nearly all of its population was wiped out. Like Fremont, Sublette County was too close to her and her sons. The combined counties of Washakie and Hot Springs had been another of them especially hard-hit counties—only three families had survived the Plague of the Mosquitoes. Them two counties were located above Fremont.

Seeing as time was of the essence, she skipped thinking about Lincoln and Uinta Counties, which were to the west of Sweetwater, and Carbon County, which was to Sweetwater's east. She settled on the county that was farthest from the one that she and her children lived in; Park County had a population of fifty to sixty thousand in it—before the plague, the population had been a hundred and fifty thousand strong—and it was a bunch of hundreds of miles from her and her sons.

"Park County is where we live," Angel replied. In all, it had taken her thirty seconds to think up a ruse that, she hoped, would throw Tazir, the Goblins, and the rest of her family off.

"The Young Masters there?" Homsi asked.

"At the moment, I don't know where my sons are." she replied quickly. After saying this, then seeing the confused look that came to Homsi's face and eyes, she thought up something that'd explain why she didn't know where they were. "You know how boys are—once you tell 'em to go outside for a while they do so and, usually, it's for a lot longer than "a while"."

"That's true—Daosi and Yhozah were like that." Eldass chuckled. "Aboshi says she wishes she could put a bell on Malmeen whenever he heads outside. Zardox as well—he's our youngest son."

"Oh, you've had more after Malmeen and Bamaia?"

"Yes, Aboshi and I had three more. Akavira, Lorboyan, and Zardox." Eldass replied. "As of late, my father-in-law's been asking if we're planning on clipping anything."

"Ouch! That's tough man." Homsi cringed.

"What about you, Homsi," Angel looked at Homsi. "Any other children since your and your wife's three?"

"Yes, we had a set of twins. A boy and a girl." Homsi replied.

"Bit late, but congratulations." Angel said to the both of them.

"Thank you." the two men said at once.

"You still have and wear the ring?" Eldass gently held Angel's left hand up.

"Am I not suppose to? Am I and he still married, or did he decide on a divorce?" Angel asked. She was slow in pulling her hand from Eldass's own.

"No, my Mistress. He hasn't divorced you. Both of you are still married." Eldass was quick in answering. "I apologize, my Mistress—I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't, just asking is all—it's been a very long time since we've seen one another." Angel replied. "Yes, I still wear his ring on my finger. I will be honest, I have taken it off. Showering, and doing the dishes, or the floor, while wearing a ring isn't the best of things to do. Messes the ring up."

"True, it does. Also makes for losing a ring very easy. Abara has lost hers several times." Homsi said, he then started to chuckle. "I've had to fish her wedding ring from the drain several times. She says it's her favorite sport to watch."

"Let me guess, she hangs over your back then starts saying all them to the right's, to the left's, whoops you missed it's." Angel was now chuckling.

Yes!" Homsi started to laugh a little louder.

The good humor that was shared between he and his employer's wife caused him to feel a bit too excited; he had to ask for a two-minute recess to happen between them before any further conversation was done. As he saw it, a short period of no conversation could be done between the three of them—his employer's wife was safe, she wasn't in any danger, and she wasn't trying to fight or flee from them. Right after getting control of himself, then fishing his communicator from its allotted space on his belt, he radioed in—he told all of what he knew then he listened as his very ecstatic employer praised him and Eldass over finding his wife and in finding where her sons were. He and Eldass had just been told to bring the woman out from the shield when a noticeable change took place in the woman that they had managed to track to the store.

Since he and Eldass were up to their necks in their own excitement—most of which was stemming from their employer's own—they didn't see the change or make any decisions to drop their voices or lower the levels of their excitement.

Angel, after hearing the order for the two Goblins to take her from the shield that surrounded Green River, Wyoming, felt threatened. Here were two men, both of whom she knew, and here was her husband, who she hadn't seen in a very long time, and they were all conversing about having her removed from the very area where her sons could or could not be in. The fact of an order being given to separate her from her sons didn't settle well with her; she neither knew where they were or could use her own communicator to contact them—with the two Goblins being so close to her, and with their excited antics, and her anxiety levels, being what they were, she was just not able to do the latter. She stood before the two Goblins, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and wringing her hands behind her back, and sweating a light sheen of sweat, and swallowing every so often... if one had just come into the store's back room, they would of noticed that she was nervous.

About ten seconds in on the two Goblins' conversation with their employer, Angel decided that she needed to use the bathroom; she relayed her little problem, which was no problem at all but simply a ruse to get away from them, to Eldass, who nodded his head, then she went off. As soon as she was out of the backroom, she took off her apron; she went to the employee lounge, punched out, wrote the reason on why she was leaving the store so early on the sign-out sheet, then grabbed her purse. She left the building with no opposition at all. Along with feeling nervous, she also felt a bit distressed over Eldass's and Homsi's failure in not mentioning Hazaar or Lazeer to Tazir; at that moment, she wanted all of her children to be near her. She felt that none of them were safe.

"Hey! Hey, Casey!" Angel said after seeing her friend's Nissan Altima 5-A9 rolling into the store's parking lot. When her friend stopped her car, she went over then got in.

"Uh, you okay? Look to have seen a ghost or two." her friend, Casey Cooke, asked after she got in her car.

"No, worse. I need you to help me find my sons." Angel said. She glanced at the building; when she saw that Eldass and Homsi were leaving the building, she got anxious. "Go! Now!"

"Holy shit!" Casey exclaimed when she saw the two Goblins. She punched her foot to the gas pedal, which immediately went to the floorboard of her car, then sped away. The two Goblins were left with seeing her parting dust cloud for only a second before going to action in following her.

Like a cruel slap to the face, Lazeer's old nemesis, the sun, had come out from behind the clouds almost the second they had been evicted from the apartment. While they had managed to teleport to a different location, and then get him under some cover, the sun had still remained uncovered—he didn't know if he should curse the sun or just throw the big middle finger up at it. There were his brothers... they were playing—rough-housing—, and training with their powers, and just having a good, ol' time, while he was stuck under the shadows of another dumb tree.

Sometimes, he wished that he had the courage to take a stick, or a sharp rock, up from the ground and then gouge the eye that gave him trouble—having just the eye that wasn't sun-sensitive didn't sound like all that bad an idea to him, but he still found himself unable to inflict that sort of injury, or put that type of pain, on himself.

Early on in his life, he hadn't been bothered with the sun or with the "chore" of going outside; he had been able to enjoy the first six hundred and fifty-nine years of his life before the ailment was noticed. A week after his six hundred and fifty-ninth birthday, he had following his brothers out for the planned activity—check out the Milk River, which had been one of the closer rivers to their old apartment. He had no more stepped out from the apartment before finding himself feeling pain—a scream had come from him, then his left eye was cupped in both of his hands, then he had collapsed to the concrete strip that acted as their sidewalk, then his brothers had all come flocking over to see what was up with him. As if all of that wasn't bad enough, he had also found himself being blind in that eye for all of six hours. Mom had been called about twenty minutes later; she had come home, had looked him over, then had said something about a worry of hers before saying for him to just lay low for a few hours until it passed. He had done the best he could with going out, and he had done his best in trying to cope with his eye issues; the depression over his not being able to do what others his age were able to do had come to claim him around two hundred and two years ago.

He wanted to be able to run around. He wanted to join his brothers in their outside activities, he wanted to mingle with the humans, and make friends when the opportunity arose itself, and gawk at the girls, and he wanted to do as his mother was constantly telling him to do in getting into "trouble"—thanks to his damn eye sensitivity, he wasn't able to do any of that.

Although he was content in now knowing where his ailment had come from he didn't see himself as "getting the better end of the stick"—before the explanation on where he had gotten his sensitive eye from had been told to him he had figured that he was just one of the many beings out there that encountered more than their fair share of bad luck; having an eye that prevented you from doing the things that a normal teenager did was more than one unlucky thing to have, considering all that one wasn't able to do thanks to it.

"Yey! Hang on a sec!" Bile, who was about twenty or so feet from him, said to Lhaklar and Hazaar, who he was busily sparring with.

After stomping his foot down, Bile bent down to retrieve the three and a half foot long, dark walnut box that had just come shooting up from the ground. He watched as his brother opened the box, then reached in, then withdrew a sword that had a sheath of dark green silk around it. The sword that Bile had just taken out from the box was his very own—it was jade-made; the grip, cross-guards, and rain-guard were gold while the pommel was obsidian. The pommel had been designed to look like a lion that was roaring.

Lhaklar and Hazaar, obviously not wanting to be left out on the fun that was about to happen, imitated their brother's action in stomping on the ground. Their own boxes, which looked very similar to Bile's own, appeared above ground afterwards.

Their mother, quite a long time ago, had asked a blacksmith, who had been on a different planet, to make her four powerful swords; the man, after getting a few details on why the request for four swords had been made, and then on them, had gone to work in making the very ones that were owned by him and his brothers. The sword that Bile had been given had been named by Bile himself—he called it the Jâd Cleddyf, which meant Jade Sword in Welsh.

Lhaklar had been given a glass-like sword that had all sorts of blue dye floating within its blade; there were all sorts of holes in the blade, and in the grips and pommel as well. Lhaklar called it the Glass Sword; despite its appearance, and despite the holes that were in it, it was very strong and durable.

Hazaar's sword was unique; it had a long, straight blade that was silver-coated. The tip of his brother's sword was made out of real rubies. The grip and pommel had a very elaborate, gold and ruby design to it. His brother called his sword the Rubinus Aureum Gladium, which meant Golden Ruby Sword in Latin.

"Hazaar and I weren't able to pick up our swords when we got them—we were just barely five hundred and six hundred years old at the time; all we were able to do was look at them." he thought as he started sifting his foot around on the leaf litter that was around the rock that he was sitting on. "Despite our not being able to pick the swords up, or be able to test them out, our mother said that they were ours and that no other being had right of taking them."

Not wanting to be left out, but knowing that there was no other choice out there for him—unless the clouds drifted over the sun, then stayed over the sun for thirty minutes to an hour, he'd have to remain where he was—, he decided to take his own sword up from its resting place.

He slid from the rock that he was sitting on, then punched the ground, then held his arms out for the box that flew out from the dirt. Once his own dark walnut box, that was the exact same length as his brothers', was in his possession he set to work in opening it and in taking the sword that was inside out. The sword that he was placing across his lap had a diamond-coated blade on it; the grip had been made to look like a snake's head and neck—the former, of which, was open. A real ruby tongue was curled up in the mouth; the fangs that were in the mouth had been made out of real gold. The sword's grip was diamond encrusted—blue and red diamonds were all over the scales of the grip of his sword. Like with his brothers, he had also given his sword a name—he called it the Schlange Schwert, which meant Snake Sword in German.

Their mother had insisted on their learning some of the languages that were used on the planet; she knew and spoke four rather well, and she knew the basics of another—she had been an exceptional teacher to them. He and his brothers all knew how to speak, and read, French, Spanish, German, and Latin; due to their already knowing English, they hadn't had to learn that one. After teaching them those languages, she had let them pick another language, one that she wasn't fluent in, to learn; Bile had picked Welsh for his fifth language while Lhaklar had picked Japanese for his. Hazaar had decided to wait a little while before taking up another language; after five years passed, he had set his sights on learning Greek. He had picked Dutch as his fifth-learned language. Their mother had joined him and his brothers in learning their fifth languages, which had been nice—the teacher had become the student and fellow classmate to them; it had been nice to know that she had an interest in what they had interests in and it had also been nice to have her learn alongside them.

By the time Bile and Lhaklar went to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, they had all gotten fluent in their picked languages and they had also decided to pick up on the other languages that they had decided to learn; he and Hazaar had all but finished learning Japanese and Welsh when Bile and Lhaklar graduated from Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. After he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar got back from going to the University of Telepathy, he and Lhaklar had picked up on learning how to speak Greek.

"Wasn't easy on ma when we were sent to school—along with missing us like crazy, she also had to foot all the costs for our educations." he thought as he watched his brothers iron the kinks out of their arms and shoulders.

Really, the only way that she had been able to come up with the dough for them had been to make movies so, when the opportunity crossed her by, she hadn't just watched it as it went on its course down the tracks—she had jumped in saying yes to everyone who had asked her to do the special effects for their films. Naturally, Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic was their first stop; instead of doing just a hundred years, like their mother had done, they had done the full two hundred years that an average student at the school did. He, Lhaklar, and Lazeer had only been sent to the University of Telepathy after showing that they had skills in Telepathy—instead of being sent to the school one by one, they had been sent to the school together. The years that they had spent in the latter school were quite lonely for their mother, and Bile, who hadn't been doing any school-time at the time; Bile and she had written them about twice a week, and they had also sent them more than enough pictures of all of the things that they were missing out on. A hundred grand had been required for their education at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic to happen while a little over that had been required for him and his full-brothers to go to the University of Telepathy; their mother had done all that she could to ensure that they had the best of opportunities at their educations and she had also done the best that she could in keeping herself, and Bile, busy when he and his full-brothers were away at UT.

Upon graduation, they had done what most any other student would in returning home; there had been no other educations for them—this had been their own-made decision, not their mother's. She had given him and his brothers pamphlets on the other schools in the Universe, then she had said that, if they had a want to go to one or more of them, they should do so with no fear or concern on where the money was coming from so they could go to them. Instead of picking a school to go to, they had just slid the pamphlets forward and then said that they wanted to stay home—he and his brothers had no interest in being evil; the other schools in the Universe taught the bad, the mean, or the just plain evil stuff that they didn't want to learn.

It had been a mutual decision by each of them to not attend any further schools—other than not wanting to learn any of that evil stuff that them other schools taught they had also not had a desire to be away from their mother, who their love for knew no words or had a full-on description.

"Hey," he looked up after hearing the voice that belonged to his second oldest brother, Lhaklar. Bile and Hazaar, he was quick to note, were sparring; loud sparks were being cast from their swords with each impact that they made of them. Lhaklar was entering the shady area where he was sitting. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lazeer replied. "Just wish that I could be out there with you guys, is all."

"Won't be long until you can do that—I've got plans to work the big club in Rock Springs in a few days. You'll have your glass by the middle part of this week."

"Lhaklar—mom would have your head on a plate if she knew!" Lazeer shook his head; even he and Hazaar knew what their brother was really doing with the job that he had taken on a few years ago. Even though they had been sworn to secrecy about it, they still teased him about it—always in secret, of course. "Why in the world do you want to rattle your flesh anyways? Don't you have enough girlfriends swooning over you?"

"Good money, well-earned money, and money that is needed. You need that glass." Lhaklar replied.

"You and mama have saved up seven hundred so far." Lazeer said.

"I can make it fourteen hundred in one night," Lhaklar said. "I'd have to dance the club one more night before the cash for you glass is fully made. You'll have your glass either the day following or the one following that—that club in Rock Springs... dancers make up to seven hundred bucks a night."

"Don't be huggin' or kissin' on me or ma afterwards—I don't feel like getting a sexually transmitted disease." Lazeer said. "And I doubt if she wants one either."

"You _are_ a sexually transmitted disease, Baby Brother."

They treated one another like any other siblings would—they picked on one another; sometimes out of fun and, sometimes, out of meanness. Not a single one of them referred the other in the wrong fashion, or spoke bad of one another, or tried their best to stay away from one or another brother who they thought was weird—in their minds, they were weird; none of them saw any reason in hurting the feelings of one brother, or causing one brother to become a cast-out.

He and Hazaar wrestled in their room from time to time; sometimes, he and Hazaar ganged up on Bile and Lhaklar for a sort of tag-team match; and, sometimes, he, Lhaklar, and Hazaar ganged up on Bile—the guy was big, the guy was strong, and it sometimes took the combined efforts of all three of them to take him down for a good-hearted tap-down. Bile sometimes went overboard when he worked out; he knew that he was strong, and big, and he sometimes forgot his strength from time to time. They did their best in trying to keep him down—so he wouldn't hurt himself. Bile could lift a lot; even though he weighed two hundred and fifty pounds, he could barely lift a weight that was over a hundred and ten pounds—he tried to lift more than that and they did their best in trying to stop him whenever the word was rang on his trying to do so.

Sometimes, even Lhaklar went overboard with his work-out routines; one time, about four years ago, when he had been trying to lift a hundred and twenty pound weight, he had managed to nearly tear all of his arm muscles in the process. Hazaar could lift a seventy pound weight with little to no trouble; he encountered trouble when he tried to lift anything over that. He was trying to be smart with his work-out routines—like with Hazaar, he could lift a seventy pound weight with no trouble at all; he had yet to try anything over that. He was using the example that Bile and Lhaklar, and their little work-out related injuries, had made available to him as a good example in what could happen after one got too rash in lifting more than they should.

Bile and Lhaklar had wanted to go to Winton, which was the very much demolished ghost town that was south of Green River; he and Hazaar had put up a fuss on going there so they had been forced to change their minds. Instead of the deserted, ghost town of Winton, they had teleported to another ghost town called Sweeney Ranch—which consisted of 8.1 square miles of nothing more than overgrown trees, bushes, and other shrubbery, and, maybe, a few, broken down buildings and vehicles. Before the Plague of the Mosquitos blew through, there had been five hundred people living in Sweeney Ranch; the plague had decimated the community in little under six months time. No one had ever put in a thought about trying to rebuild the town after the plague ended; really it was just one of them old, abandoned towns that no one remembered anymore.

The land had nearly reclaimed one of the schools; the one story building was all boarded up, and had branches, vines, and moss growing all along one of its sides. The backside of the school had all sorts of green and brown matter growing on it—along with the fact that the shadows gave the building a very dark feeling, the matter that grew on it made it have an especially spooky feeling. The other school had collapsed on itself; the beams had rusted all to hell before finally giving away to the mass amount of overgrowth that had grown on them over the years. Honestly, he and his brothers had all been in the town, and before the school, when it went; it had been cool to hear all of the cracking, and then popping, sounds and it had also been cool to see the building fall over sideways. The four of them had gotten out of the way and fast after the dust cloud went up.

The three convenience stores were a dilapidated mess; the rust, and the mass amount of holes that were on each building, was eyesore enough. Thanks to the boards all falling from the three stores' windows, they were able to see that the inside was just as bad as the outside. The clothing store had collapsed, so had the only bank. The post office was still standing, but it was very heavily overgrown with bushes, trees, and cactus. The one grocery store had more than enough tumbleweeds, and tall grass, around it—all of this, alone, made it inaccessible to anyone who decided to drop by for a look-see and, possibly, souvenir shopping.

As the books said, if you leave nature alone, it will regrow to claim what was taken from it—the land's reclaim of Sweeney Ranch had taken a mere fifty years; short for some, but long for others.

The few houses, and the only ranch in the community, were still up; some of the houses were looking to be on their last legs while others looked to still be pretty sturdy. The fence that was around the ranch had fallen in places; rusted barbed wire and pipes were sticking up from the ground everywhere—they looked to be begging for one to trip over them. The rangeland was slowly reclaiming the ranch; though he wasn't quite sure on this, he thought that a herd of horses had taken up residence near the old barn, which was still up, but lacking its paint and charm.

Along with Expedition Island, which was now off-limits to them, he and his brothers used the deserted towns as a sort of play area—it was good to be allowed to roam the area, and to be trusted to remain out of trouble while they were at-play in one, or more, of the deserted towns that were a distance from home. He was glad that there hadn't been much complaining, or fussing, over his and Hazaar's desire in wanting to go to Sweeney Ranch—his main reason in wanting to come here was because there was plenty of cover to shield him from the sun; he did believe that Hazaar's reason for wanting to come here was the same. Winton had little to no shady areas to it, so it wouldn't of been long before he would of started screaming his lungs out and then crying and complaining about his sensitive eye being harmed by the sun's rays.

"Hey! Hazaar! Come over here and keep Lazeer company for a while." Lhaklar yelled in Hazaar's direction. "I have a few beefs to square away with the Bilester."

"Ten dollars says you lose to Bile." Lazeer said with a grin.

"Ten dollars says he loses to me." Lhaklar said back. Hazaar ran up; he was sweaty, but the corners of his O-shaped mouth were curled up in a smile. He was happy and content.

"Not a problem, need a break anyways. Hey Lazeer." Hazaar said after he sat beside his younger brother.

"Bile and Lhaklar are about to spar," Lazeer said after Lhaklar walked off.

"Dibs on Bile winning." Hazaar said quickly.

"Joining in on the bet? Ten dollars if Lhaklar loses." Lazeer said.

"Hell yeah—that and Lhaklar has to wear a dress." Hazaar said evilly.

"Deal!" Lazeer laughed. "Hey Lhaklar! You have to wear a dress if you lose to Bile!"

"In your dreams, Mohawk!" Lhaklar yelled back.

As Bile and Lhaklar sized one another up, then started jive-talking one another, Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir were walking by a few trees that were growing along a stretch of fence that surrounded a red-brick ranch house—which happened to be owned by a family of six, who were all busy with tending business in the next town over. The three of them had been told to quit bugging the adults and then to scram—which, in adult-talk, they knew was permission for their going off to some other place. So far, they had visited three places: the town of Almy, which was in the county of Uinta, was as deserted as could be of humans, but it was full of wild horses, which they had had their fun in scaring the daylights out of; the town of Etna, which was in Lincoln Country, had been found as being somewhat populated of humans, and was still under the protection of a shield, so they hadn't spent much time in that location; and now the outskirts of the town of Sweeney Ranch, which was in Sweetwater County. They had found more than enough wild horses, Pronghorn Antelope, and wild cattle to scare into a stampede and they had also found a few humans to harass.

Since there were no adults around to keep them in line, or to tell them to watch their language, they had also taken it upon themselves to run their mouths; all sorts of foul language was coming from them, which was causing all sorts of mini-fights to happen.

For his bullying of Impub, and of the toddler that he called a dweeb—Qhuakiz Ubalki—, Baruk had gotten a good whipping; his father had used his belt on his backside ten times before saying for him to sit on the bed that was in his appointed chamber and then give what he had done a good thinking over. Gaajah had gotten a similar punishment.

Although Baruk held himself highly, and said that he had no fears of anything, and although he loved his father greatly, and looked at him as a sort of hero, he was greatly terrified of his grandfather. Gaajah, who knew this piece to his friend well, could concur with this—he was terrified of his father as well. A mass majority of the time, he walked around his father on his toes; it was either he do that or he run the risk of attracting his father's temper—and, of course, his belt. Ever since turning five hundred and twenty-one years of age he had had to endure the harassment of that belt, and of his father's torrent of negative words. If he talked back, or didn't do something right, he'd get one or two whaps with the belt; if he misbehaved, or got too rowdy and made something break, he'd get three or four whaps with the belt; and if he was really bad, he'd get somewhere around five to eight whaps with the belt. His father used his torrent of negative words on him almost all the time—when he was training, and when he wasn't; when he was eating a meal, and when he wasn't; when he was goofing around with his brother, and few-made friends, and when he wasn't; and, sometimes, when he wasn't doing anything but sitting around, being all content-like. Along with the belt, and his father's negatively given words, he also had to deal with the usual punishments that a child was given—only in a more extreme way. When his father spanked him, he did so with no mercy. It was either with the flat palm of his hand or with a stick, and no matter of begging for him to stop would get him to do so.

He had learned how to use his Elemental powers from his father out of dire fear; he had practically copied his father's movements so not to get yelled at, or have his father run at, grab, and then beat him. His father had never "disciplined" him for not being able to do a move, or a specific power, but his fear made him think that if he didn't do something right the first time he was in for a round of bad abuse.

Baruk had been taught the basics, and the mediocre skills, on his Elemental powers from his father too, but there had been a vast difference between his training and his own. While his father was mean and abusive, and while he was afraid of him sometimes, Big Bro Kuruk was kind and understanding. He felt no fear towards the man. His brother could get mean from time to time, yes; he did discipline Baruk sometimes—and, sometimes, a lot—but he never abused his son or disciplined him for something that he didn't need to be disciplined for. Big Bro Kuruk loved his son... he had trained his son how to use his powers slowly, and he had let him get use to the moves, and the feelings—sensations—that were experienced after using them, before moving on. He would never admit it vocally, but he did wish that his older brother was his father.

Bohir, as far as he knew, had a good dad; although Uncle Trob had his mean moments, and his moments of high discipline showing, he was very understanding, loving, and kind to his children—he only needed to look at the man's children to know that they loved him.

His mother thought that he and his siblings were all equally attached to both she and their father when, in reality, that wasn't true. Although he did feel a sense of love towards the man he only felt it out of naturality and fear—he saw his father for who he was: the man who was half-responsible for his being out and about in the Universe. In truth, he was more attached to his mother than to his father. Sometimes, his mother could be harsh as well, but he preferred her brand of harshness over his father's. She did her disciplining normally; maybe slap on the back, or shoulder, but she'd never use a belt or stick or a fist against him or his siblings and, for that, he loved her more than his father.

Uevaa was an evil thing, so she took after pop right well, and she had no problems with him. The feeling must be mutual because dad thought and saw her as not a problem—he rarely disciplined her. Although Selik had his moments of discipline as well, he seemed to be fine with dad. Gaajah couldn't understand why it was always he who got the abuse and it really, truly, did make him feel as if there was something dreadfully wrong with him. He sometimes wondered if his father didn't love him like he did Uevaa or Selik.

"Man, all these locations suck!" Baruk exclaimed. As if to add emphasis to his frustration, he kicked a rock up then sent it sailing—the blue gust of air that he shot at it made it fly a mile.

"Find another location to go to then you idiot." Gaajah said.

"Where'd your dad say he and Uncle Tazir were going this morning?" Baruk asked Gaajah.

"Some place in Carbon County called Baggs." Gaajah replied. "Plans were made for them to look for that girl and her kids."

"What girl?" Bohir asked.

Bohir, who's full name was BohirVile Apadox Surfeit, but who went by plain Bohir by everyone that knew him, was very different now than what he had been as a kid; he had been very thin and weedy up to his one thousand, three hundred, and twentieth birthday then he had started filling out. He looked quite a deal like his father.

His face was long; there were red and purple, flake-like patches on both of his cheeks. His forehead had a single, purple-colored patch of skin on it as well. The two, red patches of flake-like flesh that were on the sides of his neck were very noticeable. He had dark blue hair, that had cream-colored streaks in the back and bangs; Bohir's bangs were long and thin... so thin that his cream-colored eyes, which had puke-yellow irises and red pupils in them, could be seen. Despite the red and purple flaky patches of flesh that he sported on his face and neck, Bohir's skin was mostly puke-yellow in color. He stood six foot, two inches tall; the muscle that he had on his body was good and firm and well noticeable. Gaajah didn't need to be told that he had good insight to his powers—Trobrencus had trained him well, and without abusing him, or yelling at him for every little mistake that he made during the sessions where he was learning the ropes of his powers.

Bohir spoke of his father exceptionally well and the reason for this was because his father and he had a good relationship. Gaajah liked hanging out with Bohir; they were good friends, but he had a feeling that Baruk didn't much like him. He recalled a time where he had overheard Baruk saying to his father that he thought Bohir as nothing more than a stick, and that he had no drive in doing anything. Big Bro Kuruk had been fast in silencing him; he had said that Bohir was family, and that he shouldn't be talking or thinking of him in that way.

"That... Angel something-or-another. She's related to us—she and her four sons, that is." Gaajah said.

"Bile and Lhaklar." Baruk mused. "She had two others—Hazaar and Lazeer. No one knows what happened to them."

"Think we'll see Bile today?" Bohir asked. He and Bile had met one another in the past; other than the moments where he had joined in on the fun of bullying Lhaklar, who he also remembered, he and Bile had liked one another. The two had wrestled and chased one another around for minutes at a time; Lhaklar, from time to time, had also joined them in their wrestling and chasing activities.

"Maybe, maybe not." Baruk answered.

"He hasn't been seen in nearly two weeks, so we might not see him." Gaajah said.

"Why're you asking if we'll see Bile today? You want to see the little coward or something?" Baruk shot.

"He's a coward?" Bohir looked at Baruk.

"Yeah man—when he was a kid, he was always sticking up for the little guy. He walked around, acting all tough and all, but, underneath his put-on acting, he was just a little kisser." Gaajah said. "Had not a bad bone in his body; always sticking up for someone; and was always telling me and Baruk to leave his pansy baby brother alone."

"Bet he's hiding somewhere with his mom and brother and that other kid. Coward." Baruk growled.

"Man, I am so fuckin' bored! Is there anything at all to do on this waste-bucket of a planet other than sit and watch the plants grow and the sky change colors?" Bohir complained, then leaned against a tree.

"Where did that wet-end, Amadh Ubalki, go?" Baruk asked. "He went off somewhere this morning, anyone know?"

"He and his father went to a place near here—Sweeney Ranch was what I heard, didn't catch where, exactly they were headed, though." Gaajah said. "When they left, they had someone else with them—a girl, I think. Why?"

"I'd like to show them fools up—they think they're so big and all when they're not. They think that they're better parents and people—they don't even conquer, or have anything made up for themselves but that damn farm of theirs. What say we go and scare 'em up a bit? Make the ground around them drop, or make a ring of fire around them then stand back and listen to them as they shout for us to put it out."

"Better than just standing around and doing nothing," Bohir said. "Lets do it."

As Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir were teleporting to the center of Sweeney Ranch, and then starting to search for Amadh Ubalki, his father, and the one who had been sighted as going to the deserted town with them, Bile was busy in "schooling" his brother in the art of sword wielding.

Sparks were flying from the two's swords; with each impact, one or the other would back off, make a little face, then come back in to make new sparks happen. Bile's swings were powerful and sure, while Lhaklar's were fast and steady; Lhaklar was making sure to add in a touch of twirling to each swing that he dished with his sword, Bile had managed to do a mean backflip with one of his swings before deciding to get serious in the sparring meet.

Their sparring was only being done out of their desire in wanting to keep in shape; they weren't really fighting, or trying to injure one another—the corks that were on the ends of their swords insured no injuries being made, as did their making sure that they weren't swinging the edges of their swords to close to their bodies.

Their mother had done all of the training herself; they had used a sturdy stick to spar with, and to learn the basic moves that one did when using a sword, before graduating to using the real deal. She had taught them how to keep their grip on a sword while twirling, or spinning; she had taught them how to leap, or flip, while keeping their grip on a sword; and she had also taught them how to conserve their energy—this latter teaching had been very important. She had said that a lot of fighters put a lot of their strength in on the start of a fight—they didn't spread it out evenly, which gave their opponents more than an edge after their strength was dropped to a low level. _When one uses their strength too early, or too fast, it gives the enemy a chance to injure them,_ she had said; _it's a fool's tactic. Here's your opponent, who's biding his time, conserving his energy, and there's you... just wasting yours by using your energy stores too fast_.

Bile swung his sword twice; after the second swing, he started doing a radical move that he had seen on one of them old films that he had recently seen on the tele. His sword was swung up, over his head, a few times then it was swung to the left and then right of his body before being jabbed forward; Lhaklar reacted fast in getting out of the way. Once his body was out of harm's way, he stuck his sword out; he caught his brother's sword against the ground, pinned it down for a second, then moved as his brother did—Bile did two synchronized steps with him before jerking the hand that was around his sword's grip up. Once his sword was free, he went back to sparring. Bile swung his sword around him in a circle then jabbed it forward—the intention was for the cork that was on the end of his sword to tap his brother's stomach, thus ending the dual; he was surprised after his brother's sword was thrown to the side. He was fast in getting out of the way after his brother sent a gust of red flames his way.

"So, my little brother wants to do a change in sparring—from sword to power." Bile said. He stabbed his sword down, into the grass, then backed away. He got himself into a fighting stance quickly. "I can dig that."

Cheshire and Amadh looked out from their hiding spot, which was nothing more than a pile of bricks that had long since been reclaimed by the land; they couldn't believe what they were seeing—neither of them had expected to find Bile, or Lhaklar, in the area and neither of them had expected to see them sparring either. The two of them, and Blaiga, who was currently being told to stay behind the brick pile, had simply come over a hill; they had heard the sounds of someone jive-talking, and another reciprocating that talk, and had grown curious over who it was that was issuing out that talk. To see Bile and Lhaklar in the area, and sparring, was a grand surprise to them.

The three of them had come to this location about fifteen minutes ago; each had been in need of getting out of camp... a change in scenery had been required for all of them. According to the read-out that Cheshire had gotten from one of the machines that were in Tazir's ship, there was an old well in Sweeney Ranch. The three had gone to see it, and to see the local wildstock; as it turned out, the old well had dried up, and then been capped, some time ago. Judging by how the land had crept over and then around the well's old cap, Cheshire had been able to note that it had been capped some hundred to two hundred years ago. The wild horses that were in the area had been the next thing that they had looked into; they had seen three herds so far—a bay stud, with two sorrel mares; a black stud, with a single, cremello filly; and a bay pinto stud with a palomino pinto mare and her two-year old palomino daughter.

Cheshire was much like Tazir: he was a horseman. He bred, raised, trained, and rode horses on a near-daily basis. Once his eye had landed on them horses, he had been able to detect that some were of pure, wild blood while others weren't. The stocky confirmation on the bay stud, and his sorrel mares, and the black stud had shown the true blood that they carried; the sleeker-bodied pinto horses, and the cremello and palomino, had domestic ancestors. With noting this, he had determined that the domestic horses that had once been in the area had either gotten loose from their pens, or stalls, or had been let loose—for all he knew, maybe some of the humans who had been in the area during the planet's last plague had had a heart in not wanting to let their domestic stock stand and starve in their pens or stalls; instead of letting their horses go to waste, they had set them free so they could have a much better chance in living.

The act of one setting free of their domestic stock wasn't entirely new to him; there were some on Zeta Ren who did that. Some either let their animals free on purpose—either they couldn't afford them, or didn't want to put in the time to find them a new home, or take care of them. There were also some who released their domestic stock so it could breed with one of the wild ones that roamed nearby. One of the studs on his farm had a wild, great-great-great grandfather; his great-great-great grandmother had been born in a stall, and had lived her life in a stall, or pen, for around six or so years before being released to breed with one of the wild studs that roamed the area. Sometimes, the combination of wild on domestic backfired—the get from such pairings were throwbacks to their wild kin—and, sometimes, the get from such pairings retained their domestic side. The ones that were throwbacks were especially difficult to train and work with—with gentle hands, and a lot of patience, and the act of gelding the colts so they'd calm down, it was able to get them trained; the female animals, naturally, required a much more delicate, and slow and careful, approach to being trained.

There were others on Zeta Ren who also let their sheep and goats mingle with the wild sheep and goats of their resident areas; he wasn't very keen on the idea of one doing this—the results from such pairings were hybrids and were, thus, sterile, and their wool was so wild and unruly that it couldn't be used in the market. It was also very hard to do anything with them—a friend of his had once had his front teeth kicked out by a goat that's mother had been allowed to "mingle" with a wild buck.

"I do wish Duru was here," Amadh said to him in a low voice. "This would shut him up about what Tazir can and can't pass on to his children."

Cheshire nodded his head—for the past two weeks, DuruVile had been going on and on about what Tazir could and couldn't pass to his get. When TrobrencusVile had said that he was pretty sure that Lhaklar could do Elemental powers the man had come up saying that he was mistaken— _my son can't pass anything but a bad cold_ , the man had said.

That had made him, his family, and Tazir angry; Tazir and his father had fought on this issue, and on a bunch of other issues, over the last few weeks before the decision was made to cast DuruVile, and his wife and children, from the area where the other camps were. For the last near-two weeks, Duru and his family had been staying in a camp that was around seventy-five yards from everyone else's. The man and his wife weren't allowed to come anywhere near Tazir's camp; their kids were allowed to mingle in with the ones that roamed the camp, though.

Trobrencus had been quite apologetic towards Tazir and Vile for his assault of Bile; while Tazir had been accepting of the apology, and had voiced his concern over the injuries that the man had inflicted on him, Vile had simply waved the apology off—it was almost like the man didn't care if his son had been beat by a grown man or not. They had seen hide nor hair of the boys, or Angel, in nearly two weeks now; with the exception of Vile, they were all worried over one or the other of the two boys being seriously hurt or over Angel being too hard on them—while they hadn't taken in all of what had happened between Angel and her sons nearly two weeks ago they had noticed that she had been quite angry with them. It looked like all of that worry was for nothing because here, right in front of him, and his secondborn son, was the proof that the boys were fine. The fact that they had front rows seats to seeing what the two were capable of, power-wise, was just as good as their relief over seeing that the two boys were in good health.

Even though they had come upon the two at the end of their sword-based sparring, it was very obvious that the two boys were very well trained in the art of using a sword. Cheshire had watched their movements, and had seen that both had a keen insight on how to use a sword. Their movements were very fluid and powerful; Lhaklar had a very good, strong, and graceful step in his movements, which showed that he wasn't only fast but powerful, while Bile's movements just screamed to the world that he was very strong and would be one to reckon with in a fight.

Their opinion on Lhaklar being the quick, graceful fighter swiftly changed as he starting power-fighting his brother. Bile swung his arms hard; great gusts of blue wind shot out from his fists—these were targeted for Lhaklar, who was fast in getting out of the way to avoid them. Lhaklar, after stomping his foot down, then kicking it up and then out, towards his brother, conjured a series of spears—these spears, which shot out from the ground in quick fashion, flew towards Bile, who was fast in moving out of their path. Bile made a golden shield appear before him after moving away from the spears; he sent discs of blue, orange, and then yellow out from his shield while also repelling the same attack that Lhaklar was sending his way. After sending the discs out, Lhaklar jumped; a vortex of purple energy appeared around him for only a second before being cast out towards his brother, who used his shield to repel it. A purple lightning bolt was sent towards Bile, who caught it then sent it back to its sender; a series of yellow, white, and blue lightning bolts were sent from Bile after the rogue bolt was returned to its sender, Lhaklar dodged each and every one of them.

After sending the lightning bolts out, Bile started moving his arms around and around; all sorts of blue icicles started flying from his shield, which had since turned a light blue color. Once these were sent out, Bile cast his shield to the side then jabbed his fists down at the ground. A wave propelled him forward; he just barely missed hitting Lhaklar, who had noticed his forward advance at the last possible second. A red energy strand was cast from Bile's hand; Lhaklar caught it with ease. Instead of releasing the strand, Bile kept his grip on it; Lhaklar started twirling it—a sort of mini-tornado formed between the brothers; Bile was flung to the side after the mini energy tornado's power grew too powerful for him to withstand. A blue strand of energy, then two white energy balls, were sent from Lhaklar; the youngster, who seemed to be well within his element with his powers, then jumped into the sky. A white funnel of fire formed around his waist right after he jumped—Blaiga, who had just decided to pop her head above the pile of land-reclaimed bricks, stared at his use of this power with awe. She had just opened her mouth to ask her father what Lhaklar was fighting when she heard a series of popping sounds; Bile, who had crouched very low to the ground, had leaped into the sky. The popping sounds had come from the creation of the funnel—a golden-colored one, that was made out of air instead of fire—that he had around his lower self.

When Bile was at Lhaklar's height, he sent out five golden air discs; two strands of gold-colored fire followed before the boy's funnel was flown towards his brother. Lhaklar swooped his white fire funnel down to avoid Bile's attacks; after avoiding his brother's attacks, he raised his hands. Vines of all shapes and sizes rose from the ground; they wrapped around Bile's body... they trapped the boy in a cell, which he looked to not be able to get out of. Lhaklar concluded the sparring match by making the vine-cell that was around his brother drop; Bile, now sans his funnel, fell to the ground fast. Before colliding with the ground, he swung his arms to the left; a net of air cushioned his fall perfectly.

"Show off!" they heard Bile yell at his brother. "You win this round."

Cheshire was about to make his presence known by walking around the landscape reclaimed pile of bricks when something to his immediate left caught his attention.

Baruk, Gaajah, and TrobrencusVile's son, Bohir, had appeared in the location just before Bile's and Lhaklar's sparring match was concluded; it looked like the three were gearing up to fight the two boys—there was no mistaking the black energy blasts that the three were charging up.

Cheshire yelled just as the three blasts of energy were released; he watched in horror as each blast struck Bile. Bile yelled in agony, then turned in his direction. Before he could yell for Bile to watch himself, Baruk ran in on a wave of dirt; the large spear that Baruk had just conjured rose from the ground, then flew in Lhaklar's direction. Lhaklar saw it; he ducked his white flaming funnel low, then he swung his arms to the side. Gusts of steaming hot air flew from his funnel; Baruk shrieked in pain the second they struck him. Before Lhaklar could give out another attack, Gaajah sent up a strand of white energy. Lhaklar was struck in the shoulder; he lost control of his funnel right then and there. The funnel, which swung back and forth crazily, only released him after colliding with the ground; Lhaklar was hurled several feet before coming to a stop near the trunk of a large tree.

Gaajah and Bile, after Lhaklar was brought down from his funnel, started fighting one another; Bile started fighting with his bare fists at first, then moved on to throwing fist-sized, and formed, blocks of white, black, and golden fire at his opponent. Gaajah was just barely able to dodge these attacks; he swung his arms right after getting away from the items that had been cast towards him. Streams of white fire caught Bile's shoulder, then arm; Gaajah was only sent back after being struck by a golden air ball, which had been sent out after Bile had gotten through screaming his lungs out.

Just as Baruk and Lhaklar started fighting, Cheshire grabbed for the communicator that was on his belt.

"Tazir! You, Kuruk, Duru, and Trobrencus had best get your asses out to Sweeney Ranch and pronto! Bile and Lhaklar have been sighted—a mighty war is going on between them, Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir as we speak!" Cheshire yelled into his communicator.


	23. Chapter 23

Hazaar, the second he heard, and then saw, the happenings that were going on between his two, older brothers, and the ones that were attacking them, shot up like a rocket then charged forward; Lazeer followed at his heels. Due to how close Lazeer was to him, when he put a stop to his charge, his brother ran right into him—if not for his action in grabbing the nearest tree, they would of gone flying into the non-shaded part of Sweeney Ranch.

Lazeer would of screamed, then grabbed at his eye; the three that were attacking Bile and Lhaklar would of turned in their direction, then might of gained the idea of targeting them; and he would of gotten angrier over the situation. That's what would of happened if he hadn't of grabbed the nearest tree to break their fall.

Once near the edge of the shaded area that Lazeer had taken refuge under, the two of them stared at what was going on in utter disbelief; while they had seen things like this happen on tv—in them old tv shows, movies, and wrestling meets—, and had heard of this happening between rival gangs, they had never imagined it actually happening to one—or, in this case, two—of their own. Bile and Lhaklar were busily fighting; Bile, though putting in a gallant effort, was struggling against his opponents, one looking like him while the other looked almost like them depicted zombies that were shown in the movies and tv shows that they sometimes watched. Lhaklar was fighting someone who looked similar to Bile but who also didn't look like Bile.

Although Hazaar wasn't able to put a name to the three kids that were fighting their older brothers he did; he remembered the photographs, and the names that had been put on their backs, rather well and he was putting this to work in placing a name to the three who were giving Bile and Lhaklar a good run for their money. The one guy that looked eerily similar to Bile, but who was burlier in build, was called BarukVile Glosu Surfeit; he was his, Lhaklar's, and Hazaar's cousin—and Bile's uncle. The other guy that Bile was fighting, the one that looked like a zombie, was BohirVile Apadox Surfeit; he was TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit's son—in accord to them, he was their distant cousin. The kid that Lhaklar was having a good run with was called GaajahVile Vulbub Surfeit; he was the son of DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, who was his, Lhaklar's, and Hazaar's grandfather—and Bile's great-grandfather.

Hazaar was breathing hard; so was he, but he was doing so more out of panic while his brother's was based on pure anger.

Here were their older brothers, who, if they were correct, had just gotten through sparring with one another, latched in battle with three others who, obviously, meant to harm them. Bile and Lhaklar were not fresh—they could see that their sparring had put some tax on them and they could also tell that the two of them were having trouble in keeping up with their opponents, who were much more fresher than they. Bile looked about ready to kick the curb—the tax from his sparring Lhaklar, plus fighting off Baruk and Bohir, was wearing him out and fast—and Lhaklar looked to be nearing that mark as well.

Hazaar, who was about to charge out to put the three bullies in their place, pulled back after seeing five adults appear in the area. He, who, when he was mad, was prone to forgetting names and faces, wasn't able to put a name to the ones who had just appeared; though he was quiet, Lazeer was able to name each and every one of the newcomers to the area.

"Oh shit... he's bigger in person that in the photographs that mom developed for us!" Lazeer thought after taking in his uncle, who was just as burly as could be.

Terror wrapped around him after he started taking in the ones that were to the left of his uncle;

the man that was directly beside his uncle, who possessed a more leaner build, and who was half-black and half-silver, was his grandfather—DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit—and the man beside him, who was six foot, four inches tall, and who looked very much like a zombie, was TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit—who was his and his brothers' great-great-great uncle. He was just taking in the man who was his father—all he was able to take in was his skin complexion, which was a light blue color, and that he was six foot, one in height—when the fifth adult in the group—he was around six foot, three, and had a dark blue skin complexion—ran over. He watched as this man threw his arms around; he heard a sort of language that he wasn't able to decipher, then he saw the man pointing at the kids that were fighting Bile and Lhaklar.

"Hazaar..." he grabbed his brother's arm then pulled it. Hazaar did nothing but stare at what was going on before them. "Hazaar?"

The gauge that was his temper was slowly rising and he could do nothing to stop it; his mother had told him a bunch of times that she worried over the issue that he had with his temper, and with his general demeanor towards others, and he was usually one to either let her vocal concerns fly through one ear and then come out the other or not take them to full-heart—he didn't do this out of disrespect... he loved his mother like crazy, and he did try his best to show her the best of respect a son could give to the woman who had birthed him, it was just... his temper and demeanor showing its ugly self. His momma had also told him once that his temper might well make him a very powerful, and dangerous, man one day—the reason on this wasn't clear to him; if she was so concerned over his temper, and demeanor, issues then why was she saying that the two things might make him a force to recon with one day? It didn't seem to make a bit of sense, and he, honestly, had never, really, asked her on why she was being so contradictory.

The main issue, at present, that she was constantly getting on him about was his way of bottling his emotions—he typically bottled them up out of pure desire in wanting to retain his masculinity. He was straight, he was tough... and one who showed emotions typically never got dates, or attracted the attention of a good-looking girl who may or may not have an interest in more than a quick talk or date. Most of the time, when his emotions finally bubbled to the surface, he was outside; he usually tore plants up, or caused his hands to become a bloody mess, during them times. When his emotions came to the surface when he was at home, something usually got broke, or someone got hurt.

He couldn't explain it, really. After reading up on a magazine that had an article on Bipolarism in it, he had tried to pin his issues on that; his mother claimed that a lot of his issues stemmed from his being in that stage of his life where he was mad at either everyone or everything—at the Universe, its sentient inhabitants, and everything else that was around him, was what she had said.

"You're not the only one who's gone through this phase, Hazaar." his mother has said to him one day. "Bile and Lhaklar have gone through similar periods in their lives, and at exactly the same age as you are now."

According to mom, Bile went through a particularly scary early-to-mid teenage period—she called what he was going through the Temperamental Phase and, really, he approved of that name very well. Bile, she had said, had broken four windows, had punched more than a dozen holes in the walls, and had also flipped more than enough sofas over—and for absolutely no reason at all.

He had been surprised over hearing this; to hear that his oldest brother, who was so big and well-muscled, acting like that had scared him. To hear that Lhaklar had done something similar had also been surprising—according to mom, Lhaklar had snapped at just about anyone who had come up to say hello to him, and he had also broke four kitchen tables, three chairs, and had caused the faucet in their old Alberta, Canada apartment to break by twisting it too fast and hard. Lhaklar had also kicked the front and back doors of their old apartment from their hinges more than once. Momma claimed to of been outside during the faucet breaking incident, and during two of the door-breaking episodes; she had been inside during the rest.

Upon asking Bile and Lhaklar if what he had been told was true, or if their mother was trying to pull a fast one by scaring him straight, he had learned that all of what she had told him was true—and that she had also left a certain something that Bile had once did completely out. According to Bile, when he had been one thousand, six hundred, and twenty-one years of age, he had come into the kitchen being all mad—there had been four glasses on the counter at the time, and momma had been busy in washing the kitchen floor; after momma got on Bile for walking on her just-cleaned kitchen floor he had reacted by swiping his hand at the glasses. Two of them four glasses had gone sailing towards momma; a few cuts had been made to her hands, and a two-inch long cut had happened to her left cheek, after the glasses hit her. After asking their mother for a confirmation on this, she had said that it had happened and that, afterwards, Bile had just collapsed and then bawled his eyes out— _if not for that phase, that wouldn't of happened_ , she had said.

Hearing that had put a merry scare in on him; he loved his mother, and his brothers, and he couldn't bare to see any of them being hurt—or be hurting or even being sad. It tore him up inside over how depressed Lazeer was over not being able to go out because of his eye sensitivity, and he also worried about his mother, and Lhaklar, working themselves to a frazzle in trying to gain the money for his goggled glass.

At the start of the phase that he was going through, he had tried isolating himself in his and Lazeer's bedroom; he had tried to act like a Meerkat, a Mongoose-like animal that hid after danger was sighted and that didn't come out from its burrow until that danger was gone. His mother had plain refused to let him do that; at the start of his attempts in isolating himself, she had always gotten Bile or Lhaklar to come and retrieve him. She had taken it upon herself in dragging him from his and Lazeer's bedroom during the middle and then latter period of his trying to do this. _Isolation does no one person any good,_ his mother had said to him during this period in his life; _you're just going through a phase is all. There's nothing to be afraid of; your issues in not being able to control your temper will cool down, and even out, in a few years. You'll be back to being my sweet Hazaar again in no time._

He hoped so; he didn't like being mad all the time, and he didn't like snapping at others either—as of the last ten years, he had been getting a bit too snappy towards others. He really only had his mother to talk to on the issues that he was facing; he had tried going to Bile a few times—he had tried to confide in him the issues that he was facing, such as the confusing episodes of his waking to find his bed all wet, and he being sticky from the waist on down. The times that he went to Bile for issue-confiding hadn't gone well—he had been nervous, and he hadn't been able to voice what he wanted to talk with him about very well. As if that wasn't bad enough, on the times that he had managed to get this issue out to his brother, his brother had chuckled, and then said something about his having dreams that were causing him to get excited and then wet the bed. On the times that he had gone to Lhaklar on this issue, Lhaklar had said that he was just becoming a man—no big-help, or advice, had come from the two of them; they had either chuckled, then given him a confusing answer to what he was experiencing, or they had just given him the confusing answer before walking away.

Momma always knew how to explain things; she explained them as they should be explained, and she never chuckled, or made fun of him, when he went to her for answers on the issues that he was facing.

As far as he knew, Lazeer was also experiencing the same bed-related issues that he was—it seemed that his bed was stripped of its bedding three times a week, and it also seemed that he took near-daily morning showers after waking as well. One time, after asking him what was going on with him, he had come back saying that he had just had an oops moment— _an oops moment, and I think I'll need to start putting a diaper on before I go to bed_ , was what he had said.

Lazeer was also going through the Temperamental Phase... but he seemed to be having a better run with it than he was. Although he had his moments of being moody, and of snapping at others, he was acting pretty much the same—he guessed that they'd see what he was really going through with this phase after he finally got his glass, then got over the depression that his sensitive eye was causing him to go through. According to momma, people react in different ways to the phase; some might act super ornery, like him, and Bile and Lhaklar, while others might not be all that effected by it. At present, it looked like Lazeer's phase was effecting him in the mild to mediocre way.

"Hazaar..." he heard his younger brother say. He shook his head, then turned after feeling his arm being pulled on.

"Quick yankin' my arm!" Hazaar snapped, then tore his arm free of his brother's grip.

"If you haven't noticed, there's seven against two out there—our brothers are in trouble. We need to help them." Lazeer, who looked a bit miffed over being snapped at, said.

"We?" Hazaar looked at his brother; for a small second, he forgot about what was going on in front of him. "What can you do? If you head out there you'll go blind—you'll have just one eye to see through, which'll put a nice handicap on you."

"For my brothers, I'll risk it." Lazeer said. He was in the process of going past his brother when his brother grabbed and then threw him back to being behind him. "Hazaar! Bile and Lhaklar need—"

"Go get mom," Hazaar said. "Let me worry about them, you just go get mom." when Lazeer gave him a funny look, he stepped towards him. "What're you waiting for? Go find her then bring her here."

"I want to help, not run off like a coward!" Lazeer said.

"You are helping, Stupid! Mom is very strong and powerful." Hazaar replied as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm more rested than Bile and Lhaklar, I'll last a while. Find mom and bring her here. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"Hazaar—"

"Do it!" Hazaar snapped. He looked at his brother for only a second before turning and then leaving the shaded area that they were under.

After hearing the call about Bile and Lhaklar being attacked by Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir, he had teleported to the area quickly; his heart had been in his throat, and his mind had been doing cartwheels, but he had managed to calm himself, and his anxiety, down long enough to get to the location. With his being in camp, getting ready to grab the equipment that he used when he went out to do some hunting, everyone had been able to hear what was going on; his brother, and their father, and Trobrencus had appeared in the area at the same time that he had—apparently, one of the three had had the brains to tell everyone else in camp to stay put because no one else appeared in the area. Honestly, he didn't mind their being here; they could be of assistance in getting the boys under control and they could also be of assistance in catching Bile and Lhaklar.

The day had gone from being great to somewhat disappointing and fast before picking up to being great again; he had come close to letting his bladder, which he had been in the process of emptying at the time, go after hearing that Eldass and Homsi had found his wife. After taking the leak that he had needed to take, then exiting his ship, he had waited for them to appear with his wife; the message from the two of them about his wife taking off, and of their chasing her, had only just been received when Cheshire's message on Bile and Lhaklar being sighted, and being attacked by Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir, came through. He was still trying to figure out the reason behind Angel's running off from the two Goblins—according to Homsi, his wife had been fine with having them near her and she hadn't been seen as acting in any way, shape, or form nervous or had said anything negative to being removed from her "workplace".

Tazir took off running towards Bile—the boy's strength looked to be falling and fast; he looked to be drenched in sweat, and he looked to be a bit shaky in the legs; and he had fallen to his knees at least twice since he had appeared in the area. Bile, who was fighting two opponents at once, didn't look to have much more to give, which scared him—he didn't want the boy to be hurt, or to be killed; he had just found him for crying out loud!

He watched as Bohir fired an energy strand from each of his fingers at Bile; this boy, who was a bit older than his adopted son, then sent a white sound wave towards Bile, which sent him flying right after impact occurred. Tazir saw his son bounce along on the ground twice; Bile came to a rest near a few pipes, then remained stationary for a few seconds, before getting up. Bile sent back two, weak, fire balls, then charged up an explosive pink energy sphere; when he sent the latter out, he came close to collapsing. Baruk, who was just a foot or two from Bohir's side, jumped out of the way of the sent attack, then charged at Bile; Bohir wasn't as fast or as lucky. He was sent flying after being struck by the pink energy sphere; he struck the pile of bricks, that had long since been reclaimed by the land, hard.

Before the boy was able to get to his feet, his father was on him. Tazir heard Trobrencus yelling at his son, getting on him real good, then he heard Bohir issue out a cry before going quiet; whatever happened between the two of them was between them, Tazir forgot about Trobrencus and his son.

Bile was now casting out shards of yellow, white, and black energy, and he was also kicking up chunks of Earth—Baruk only barely managed to evade all of these sent attacks. Baruk sent out five, red energy strands then leaped into the air. Before he could send out a fire blast—a white one, by the looks of it—, Bile leaped to the side; when he kicked his foot up, a gust of black air went towards Baruk, who screamed in agony after having it collide with him. Baruk was able to send a weak air ball out at Bile before falling to one of his knees.

"Bile looks dog-tired out there!" TazirVile said to his brother, who had suddenly appeared at his side.

"Yeah, well, he looks stronger than my son is" KurukVile replied.

Up to now, he had forgotten that his firstborn son was also in the area; after hearing the explosion, then the yell that followed it, he turned his head—not only was his son in the area, and not only did he also look quite tired, but he was also squaring off with an opponent. Gaajah was throwing spheres, balls of black dirt, black lightning, and spears of all shapes and sizes at his son, who was either ducking or jumping out of the way to avoid them. Lhaklar was fast in sending out three, white energy spheres, and then a green lightning bolt; he started moving his hand in a wave-like manner after them attacks were sent—the ground that was underneath and around Gaajah took on a wave-like appearance right after he did so. Only when the ground around Gaajah fell did Gaajah's attempts to take his son down cease—Gaajah, after falling into the crater that Lhaklar had just made, was on his stomach for only a second before getting to his feet again.

Of to the side, about fifteen or so yards from the pair, was Gaajah's father; the man looked to be taking in both Bile's, and now just Baruk's, fight and Lhaklar's and Gaajah's fight. It looked like he, who had said so much over the near-two weeks that had happened since Angel's appearance over what he could and couldn't pass on to his offspring, was to only be a spectator to the two battles that were happening, which pissed him off.

The conversation on what Bile and Lhaklar could do, power-wise, had been sparked by Trobrencus's comment on how Lhaklar had sent him away from him by using the water to propel him to a "safer" distance. His grandfather—Shaam—had asked if Bile had once burned a tree on his property when he had been younger, then he had asked if Lhaklar had done something similar or not; his father—Duru—had come back by saying that the day that his son used Elemental powers to burn a tree down, or sent out a lightning bolt, was the day that he'd become a "Monkey's Uncle". The man had said that he highly doubted if he could pass Elemental powers to his offspring and he had also insulted Eshal on her not being able to do Elemental powers.

He honestly had a feeling that Eshal knew how her grandfather felt about her; the two had said relatively little to one another since taking up position on Earth and Eshal had said nothing regarding her grandfather since seeing him on the twenty-sixth of August.

"You was saying that I couldn't father children that can do Elemental Powers nearly two weeks ago! There's your proof right there!" TazirVile yelled at his father, then gestured at his son, who had since risen up on a funnel of golden air, and was casting discs of gold-colored fire and golden air, and rivots of pebbles, from the base of his funnel out at Gaajah.

After hearing his uncle's voice, Gaajah because distracted; after looking over to the right, then seeing that his father was in his near-immediate vicinity, he was nearly overcame with fear. It was his notice of his father, and the fear that nearly overcame him, that gave Lhaklar the opportunity to take him out. The gust of air, which was as black as could be, struck him in the side; he screamed as he flew back. He had only just landed, and then started getting to his feet, when the hard hands that belonged to none other than his father grabbed him by the shoulders. When his father yanked him up, then twisted him around, then looked at him, he knew that he was in trouble—there was anger in them eyes, and there was a hot-feeling to his father's hands that he knew wasn't just normal blood circulation.

Bohir, he was able to note, was sitting on the ground; his father was standing just beside him—his friend would periodically look up at his father being dropping his gaze. Gaajah looked over at Bile and Baruk; with him out of the way, Lhaklar had joined Bile in fighting Baruk back. It looked like his efforts in trying to give his brother aid were for nothing—the two were being beat, and quite badly, by the leader of his group of friends. Before Gaajah could say anything, could explain himself and his actions, or beg for mercy, he was thrown; his father shoved him twice, then grabbed him by the shoulders and then hauled him along for a few feet before releasing him, then pushed him down after he reached the area where Bohir and his father were.

Gaajah, who was trying to suppress the shivers that his fear over what was in store for him later was causing him to experience, looked at his father, who was standing directly beside Trobrencus. He did not dare say anything to his father now—he was in enough trouble as was; he didn't need to add anything else to what he was to get later on. Instead of speaking, he swallowed hard then looked forward.

"Bile..." Lhaklar gasped after returning to his brother's side. "Go... go get Hazaar and Lazeer then get out of here. Take our younger brothers to safety."

"Y-you kidding me?" Bile breathed heavily. "N-not on y-your life. We're in this tuh-together."

Bile was hurt in several places; his right shoulder was open and bleeding, he had a gash in his chest that was bleeding quite profusely, both of his legs were open and bleeding, and his right arm was very badly burned. That punk kid—Baruk—and his gang of bully friends had been waiting for them to finish their sparring, Lhaklar fully believed; that damn kid, and his bully friends, had been biding their time, letting them use up their energy and strength on themselves in their innocent sparring and play actions, before attacking.

His intent on not losing the bet that Lazeer had mentioned—the one about his wearing a dress if he lost to Bile—had been serious enough to make him want to turn the innocent sparring activity into the real deal; at the very last second, he had decided to just make it a heavy-duty sparring session. As expected, Bile had been tired after their sparring had come to a close; oh, he had looked to have enough for another go, but he had seen the signs of his brother's fatigue and he hadn't been planning on engaging him in another battle—beating him in one sparring was enough, he thought.

Baruk's entrance had been timed, he fully thought and believed. He, who was so fresh, and non-taxed from fighting anyone, had wanted to do a coward's fight by dueling with one who was already taxed. Bile had fought Baruk, and Bohir, gallantly, but he hadn't been able to keep up with them or be as fast as he wanted to be. Even after joining his brother in offing Baruk, who was his brother's lone-remaining opponent, he hadn't been able to tip the scales, or even the odds. Baruk was proving to be a problem.

Lhaklar sent out a combination red, black, and blue air blast before stomping his foot down; ten spears rose from the ground right after he did so. His body shuddered as he twirled; he kicked each towards Baruk, Bile sent a flaming fist of orange in Baruk's direction afterwards. Baruk, non-surprisingly, was able to dodge all with relatively no trouble. After having them attacks dodged, Lhaklar decided to use a move that his mother had taught him; like with Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer, she had taught him all of what she knew of their acquired Elemental and Energy powers. She had taught them slowly; their powers, and the sensations that were felt when they used them, had been taught to them as she saw fit. Only after seeing that they had grown accustomed to their powers, and their given sensations, had she let them evolve their own moves.

Lhaklar swung his arms back, then drew them forward; flames started rolling down from his shoulders, they started at being black, then changed to white, before returning to being black again. Only after his move was charged did he throw his arms out; Baruk, as expected, shrieked at the top of his lungs after the super-charged stream of black fire struck him. He, their attacker, got up from the ground smoking; only after getting to his feet did he send a punch out—the stream of red fire that he punched at Lhaklar didn't hit its intended target. The boy's fiery red eyes grew wide as he watched the one that he was attacking swallow his issued attack—he had never seen the Fire Arm move before, nor did he know that it existed, and he had never seen anyone swallow a fire attack before.

Baruk leaped up, then ran at Lhaklar and Bile. Due to the two's exhausted state, he was able to get between them; he did a jump after getting between then, then he did a split—the sheet of white flames sent Bile flying back screaming. Baruk saw Bile bounce on the ground, roll over twice, then come to a stop; his original opponent stayed still for a few seconds before starting the process of struggling to his feet. Lhaklar, who had also been hit by the sheet of white fire, had only jumped back; he was now running back to continue the fight.

"Gotten ballsier on me," Baruk thought.

Lhaklar was thinking that the kid was bold to of done what he had just done; after sliding to a stop before Baruk, then making his hand into a fist, he swung at him. His opponent shrieked right when his fist struck him—instead of just leaving his fist as-was, he had made it become engulfed in flames; just before striking the boy, he had froze the fire that had engulfed his hand. The result of his punch was very evident—Baruk's colonial-like shirt, and vest, had been burned at and around the area of impact; Baruk now had a second degree burn to his chest, which looked to be giving him more than a little grief. The boy backed off a few feet, then looked at his chest, then touched his chest, then looked at him; after letting his eyes drop to mere slits, he swung his leg up and then kicked it out—Lhaklar only barely managed to get out of the way of the sent ground spear, which had been a red color, and about as wide as his wrist.

"Chicken!" Baruk called after his opponent put a red shield around himself.

His words were no more said before he wanted to choke them back into himself—once Lhaklar's arms started to revolve around and around, and once the flaming icicles started coming out from the shield, he started wondering if the kid was fresher than he had initially thought he was. He swung his fists, trying to punch the white, red, and black fire-cicles out of his way; he found that, with every contact that his hands made on his opponent's attack, they'd be burned. His clothes were burned; his body was burned; and his anger grew to unprecedented proportions.

When Lhaklar exited his red shield, Baruk saw his chance; he swung his arm, fully intending to take him out once and for all. He had only gotten it halfway swung before it was grabbed. Once his arm was grabbed, he turned; what he saw wasn't what he thought he'd see.

He knew that his father, grandfather, his uncle, Trobrencus, and Cheshire and Amadh were in the area, and he had figured that one of them had come up to put an end to his fun. What he saw he perceived as being the farmer/miner that was rooming in his uncle's ship—the only thing that he was able to really take in was that he had a dark blue skin complexion. Before he could say anything, the guy swung his fist. He drove him back.

He grabbed at his face right after being punched; he felt his blood flow out from his nose, and from his now cut gums, and from the left corner of his lip, for only a second before getting down to business in teaching his new opponent a lesson. When he swung his fist, a ball of red-hot fire was sent out; his new opponent, quite surprisingly, caught it, then separated it, then elongated it into twin flaming ropes. He stared at this in dumbfounded shock; he was so enthused in this move of his new opponent's that he wasn't paying attention to what else he did—his opponent, who he'd not know the name of for a few more weeks, twirled the flaming ropes above his head then threw them at him. It was an automatic thing when he shrieked after they wrapped around his upper torso; the twin ropes, which had formerly been an attack of his, burned and electrocuted him at the same time.

"Tazir! Is that the kid that you saw on Zeta Ren?" KurukVile asked quickly. His initial plan had been to separate his son from Bile; after see that Bile and Lhaklar were teaming up to fight Baruk off, he had decided to stand by as a sort of referee—at the time, he had seen the two of them as giving his son a valuable lesson on who not to mess with.

"No, I have no idea who he is." TazirVile replied.

He hadn't done as Hazaar had told him to do right away; instead of running off to retrieve their mother, he had taken in some of the fight that was going on. Only after seeing Bohir, and then Gaajah, being subdued by their fathers, and then seeing that Hazaar had reached Baruk, who had looked to be in the process of putting Lhaklar out for good, had he gone off to do as he was told.

He teleported to Green River, Wyoming, ran through the shield that was around it, then thought up his mother; he figured that she was still at work, working in the Deli department at Food Lion, but, when he teleported, he found himself at an intersection instead. This confused him; in his confusion, he forgot that there were cars driving by—when he stepped out into the street, one of the passing cars came very close to hitting him. By his action in stepping out onto the street, and away from the shadow that was coming off from the awning that was on the front of the Ross jewelry store, he was exposed to the sun.

He shrieked at the top of his lungs right after the rays of the sun struck his sensitive eye, then grabbed at his eye, then lost his footing as he lost his balance. He heard rubber squeal as people tried to avoid hitting his street-bound body; when he managed to get to his feet, a bumper of some vehicle struck him. The skin of his right shoulder was ripped clean from him, as was the shoulder of his shirt.

His left eye throbbed; it felt as if there was a raging volcano going off in his eye, and it felt like it was spewing its molten lava all along inside the thing that he was suppose to be able to see through. He experienced excruciating pain for all of two minutes before the pain ebbed away—by the time that happened, a vehicle side-swiped him. He was sent flying to the curb; the cry that came out of him was loud enough to attract the attention of the humans that were in the businesses behind him. Thanks to his letting his sensitive eye become exposed to the very thing that it was sensitive to, he was blind now, so he couldn't see what was going on on his left side.

With himself now blind on his left side, he slowly stood up; he was shaky on his legs, but he managed to stand—it was this little feat of his that attracted his mother's attention. Angel Irene, with Eldass Zultoa and Homsi Modulavich following twenty feet behind her friend's vehicle on a sort of hoverboard, yelled for her friend to stop the car. Casey Cooke slammed her foot on the brakes of her car then careened to the side of the road; she nearly caused an accident in the process. Angel got out of her friend's car, then grabbed her son, who was looking around in a daze, then threw him into the back of the very vehicle that she had just gotten out of. She got into her friend's car just before Homsi and Eldass could stop their hoverboards and grab her.

"Lazeer! What the _hell_ are _you_ doing?" Angel yelled at her son. "You could of been killed!"

"Ma?" Lazeer had his hand over his left eye; even though the pain had gone away it was still throbbing.

"What happened? Where's your brothers?"

The two minutes that he had just experienced were the longest two minutes of his life—he was very shook up. After gaining his bearings, then calming himself down a little, he told his mother what had happened in Sweeney Ranch—that he and his brothers had gone there to play, rough-house, and spar, and that they were having fun up to when Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir showed up. He told of the fight that his two brothers were having, and of his fear that they were in danger, then he told of the five adults that he had seen, and then that Hazaar had sent him to get her. By the time all of this was out and in the open, he was blubbering; his mother, who was in a near-frenzy after hearing all that had come from his mouth, told her friend to pull over at the train yard right after she pulled off onto the stretch of road that the train yard was on.

Angel Irene, and her friend, Casey Cooke, had had an eventful five minutes; Homsi and Eldass, right after seeing her being driven off in a car, had taken two black boxes from their belts and then thrown them out. The two had jumped on the hoverboards that had been neatly nestled in them boxes then they had given chase of her and her friend.

The hoverboards that they were using were typically used in an emergency; they had been invented just before Lazeer's birth and, from what she had seen, it looked like they had been improved over the years—when the devices were put out to market, they had been rather slow. The hoverboards that Homsi and Eldass were using, which were sleek, black, and flat, and that had two holes on the bottom, from which pink jets of air shot out of to keep the boards afloat, and two exhausts in the back, which acted as a means to propel the devices forward, were now very fast. Homsi and Eldass had been able to keep up to within ten to twenty feet of her friend's car. Casey had been forced to speed along just to keep the two Goblins from being able to get the jump in on them.

"He alright?" her friend, Casey Cooke, asked after taking note of Lazeer's hysteria. Lazeer was near to crying now, and he looked to be fretting over his skin-scraped shoulder.

"Lazie?" Angel said. When she reached over to examine the shoulder that looked to be giving her son grief, she saw that it was starting to bruise and that there were two areas where it was bleeding.

She and the one who had made it possible for that villainous Vile to not get his claws in on the various governments that ran the communities of Earth had become friends a right long time ago; she liked to believe that it was the fact that she was a descendant of one of the woman's old friends but there was also a possibility that their friendship had been kindled from something else—like, maybe, the friendship that her mother, grandmother, great-grandfather, and then great-great grandmother had had with her.

By way of looking at the charted history of her family, she had managed to find that one of her ancestors had been a man by the name of Ned O'Nell—the man had been a captain in the army and, in fact, he had done some service in the military before perishing. The records claimed that, after being sent to Afganistan to find Osama bin Laden, the crook who was behind the bombing of the twin towers, and the thousands of deaths that had come off from that catastrophe, he had come home; a daughter, who had been given the name of Lily, had been made just before he was sent to Iraq, where he had spent six months fighting rebels before being killed.

Due to her mother's friendship with the woman, she had known her from almost the moment she was born; still, though, their friendship hadn't been given a kick-start until after the apartment that her friend, and her family, lived in was given a major makeover. She had been told stories about the woman, all of which had been passed down from one generation on down to the next, and she had also been told of the woman's friendship with her ancestor—all, of which, had been confirmed by her friend right after she had reached her early-teenage years.

It was quite an honor of hers to be a friend of the woman; imagine, Casey Louise Cooke, a twenty-five year old woman, who worked in a tattoo parlor in Rock Springs, and who had a strawberry tattoo on her hip—her favorite fruit—and a scorpion tattoo on her right shoulder, being a friend of the woman who had done the best she could to ensure the safety of the people of Earth. Imagine her, with her short, black hair, dull brown eyes, and plain-looking face, and who had a height of just five foot, one, being a friend of someone who was so important to the people of Earth.

Her apartment was a mile from her friend's own; she saw her, and her sons, at least two times a day. She knew the family quite well and she thought highly of them. Sometimes, when she caught the boys out, having a smoke somewhere, she'd join them—she knew that each and every one of the boys smoked and she kept what she knew to herself, and they knew of her doing this, which was why there was a good trust between her and they.

"Take my son to my apartment, will you?" Angel asked as she pushed the door on her side of the vehicle open. Lazeer, right after hearing this, sat upright then bolted out of the car; his periwinkle-blue face, Casey was able to note, had gone a degree lighter in color.

"No! I'm coming with you!" Lazeer shrieked.

"Baby, this might get dangerous. You're hurt, you need to go home and take care of your eye and shoulder." Angel said.

"No, I want to go with you! I want to help!"

"You have helped, Lazie. I'll have Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar home just as you walk in."

"Mom..." Lazeer was really fighting the urge to cry now; he was terrified. "P-p-please... I want to come, I don't want to be left behind. Please!"

Angel looked over to the left; Homsi and Eldass had just made it around the turn. They were coming straight for her and her son now. Lazeer had lost his battle in not crying; he was begging and pleading with her to not leave him behind and she, in a bunch of ways, was having a hard time in not snapping at him. Angel weighed the odds quickly: take Lazeer with her, and risk him being attacked and hurt as she took care of the ones that were attacking his brothers, or leave him behind, and risk Homsi and Eldass taking, or possibly hurting, him. Although Angel didn't want her son to be hurt, she didn't want him to be captured or taken from her either.

Soon after making her mind up on what to do, she stood stock still; a pink energy wrapped around her, then an energized breeze blew from her—Lazeer, knowing full well what she was up to, took a few steps back. Upon her transformation's conclusion, she turned her head down at Lazeer, then nodded, then gave a sideways gesture; Lazeer, taking the cue from her, climbed onto her back quickly. With her son safely on her back, and with her form set and ready to go, she looked at Casey. She nodded her head at her friend, then thanked her for helping her, then turned to leave. She had just taken two steps when the wings that were on her back started flapping.

Homsi and Eldass pulled their hoverboards to a stop, then placed their feet on the ground, after seeing that their employer's wife, who had a young form on her back that they weren't able to identify, was in her dragon form and was flying away. The two watched as she flew out of the shield, then disappeared over the horizon, before taking their feet up from the ground. The Nissan Altima 5-A9, which was mostly purple in color, but that had a flame-design on its sides and roof, and four exhausts on the back, rode off at the same time that they did; they, who were quite perturbed by what had happened in the last five minutes, went towards the shield, then exited it, while the vehicle went west, towards the center-part of Green River.

"Umph!" he said as the area around him was torched.

Since taking it upon himself to become "tagged" into becoming Baruk's next opponent, he had found himself fighting more than just one being—Baruk, right after being wrapped in his twin-ropes of fire, had been saved by the burly man, who his former opponent had called dad right after being rescued. Baruk had been carted to the side—to where Gaajah, Bohir, Trobrencus, and Cheshire were—while his father, the mighty KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, took his place. He had fought this big man for all of thirty seconds before finding his grandfather, the terrifying DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, charging in to "tip" the scales; his own father, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, had become a minor party of the fight after he had used his powers to keep him away from Bile and Lhaklar.

Lhaklar was standing just ten feet to his right; he had several cuts to his face, and his left arm was badly burned, but he looked to be okay—just enjoying the break that he was finally able to get. Bile had managed to get to his feet, but he was completely drained; he couldn't fight anymore. It was all on him now. The burly man, who had a half-white, half-red skin complexion, was really strong; he was really giving him a go for his money, as was the leaner bodied man—his grandfather.

Fire bombs were making the green and sun-baked grasses around him turn to ash; thanks to the heat that was coming off from the bombs that missed him, the leaves of the trees and bushes behind him were being stripped of their branches. A few bushes, and small-range trees, went up in flames; some of the larger trees fell over after the rogue fire bombs struck them. The pit of his stomach was giving him considerable grief—a blue acid ball, generously sent by his father, had hit him there—and his ankle was singing its pain notes—after having to run away from one of his grandfather's fire vortex's, he had stepped in a gopher hole, which had damn near cost him a broken ankle.

Hazaar knew that his two opponents were concentrating their attacks on him; Lhaklar had managed to swoop in to repel three ground spears, and Bile had managed to send a small-range water stream at DuruVile—neither of his two opponents, or his father, had turned on them after them repellings, or attacks, were done.

"Lhaklar... stay out of this!" he had snapped at his brother after he repelled the three ground spears. "You and Bile both... you leave this to me!"

A super gust of white-colored air sent him flying back towards the trees; his grandfather used a move that he'd call a little later on as The Foul, Stinking Breath of Fire on him after he regained his balance. He was just sending a wave of white fire towards the two when movement caught to his immediate right—due to his not being able to get out of the way in time, the ground stream, that had just been sent by the same man who had used The Foul, Stinking Breath of Fire on him, struck him right in the knee. He screamed in agony after that baby struck him.

"Shit... no!" Lhaklar screamed after seeing his brother drop to one knee.

Thinking fast—not wanting his brother to be crippled for life, or killed—he threw a red sphere of energy out at his grandfather; after throwing this sphere, he collapsed to one of his knees. He was exhausted, and it was his exhaustion that caused him to be slow in getting back to both of his feet again. After putting so much effort in on trying to get to his feet, he decided to change tactics; he was weak, and exhausted, and he'd only be able to do this one ability of his for a short few minutes, but he was willing to give it a try.

His mother, soon after discovering that he could transform, like her, had taken him under her wing in teaching him the ropes on how to achieve all of the forms that one could do with this ability. He had been seven hundred and thirty years of age at the discovery of this ability of his; the simple act of his turning into a small mouse—to get away from a big dog, that had been meaning to make him into a snack—had been the cause of both his and his mother's knowing of his having this ability.

She had taught him how to go into his forms, and on how to achieve his form-doing in different speed ranges, and she had also taught him how to achieve forms that experienced users of the ability were able to turn into—extinct animals, or animals or beings of other planets, or even forms that didn't exist, meaning.

Lhaklar, soon after gaining his feet beneath him, became engulfed in a green glow; an energized breeze flew from him as he changed his true form into something else. He felt his body changing; his legs became longer and stronger, his arms grew longer and slender, his upper and lower torso elongated, and his neck grew long. His head also grew in length. When the green glow fell from his body, he stepped forward in the form of a mint-green dragon—the likes, of which, had bright yellow crests above its eyes, a frill of yellow down the base of its back, and two, yellow-webbed wings on its back. The claws that he had were long, and milky-yellow in color; there were twin-curling whiskers coming down from his nostrils, which were quite large to accommodate the animal that he had taken the form of.

Soon after achieving his form, he leaped in front of Hazaar; he roared loudly, then breathed out white fire, then he turned around and swept his long tail, which had two, milky-yellow spikes on its tip, back. He felt one of the two adults that had started attacking his brother being swept away; when he turned around, he saw that his uncle had managed to evade his attack.

"You can transform too!" KurukVile exclaimed. He looked at the towering, twenty to twenty-five foot long form that his nephew had just acquired for only a second before bringing his foot down on the ground before him; a spear shot out at his nephew, who managed to evade it. The dragon-form that his nephew had taken on, he was quick to note, was off-balance and a little clumsy in its movements—it was like the form was teenage-like, which he thought was appropriate, seeing as it had been a teenager who had acquired it. After having his ground spear be evaded, he swung his hands out; his long, purple-colored fingernails shot out from the ends of his fingers one by one. Each of his sent nails became embedded in his nephew's dragon-form's arms and side.

He only fought Lhaklar to bring down his form; he had fought his granddaughter in this form a few times, and he knew that there were weak points in the form that would make it drop—the wings were one of these, as was the underbelly. He tried to send his evicted fingernails at the wings; Lhaklar, in response to his attacks, rose—the hind legs that carried his body up were long, strong, and decently muscled. His fingernails, instead of becoming embedded in the form's wings, became embedded in the form's stomach instead.

"Hold on!"

TazirVile ran forward right after saying them two words; he gathered himself quickly, then leaped up. KurukVile stopped firing his nails—his brother had just landed on Lhaklar's side; after doing a few-second period of climbing, he started tearing at the wings that were on the top-side of his son's form's upper back. Lhaklar, in response to this, was twisting and turning wildly; when one of the wings fell off the form, Kuruk yelled in triumph. Kuruk saw his nephew's bluish colored blood spewing out from the area where the wing had once been, then he saw his brother fall to the ground. Lhaklar stomped his left forearm down soon after his assailant was off of him; his father rolled out of the way quickly, then shot a fire stream up from his fist. Lhaklar recoiled back, shrieked in pain, then collapsed—his legs, at that moment in time, gave out from under him.

He crashed heavily to the ground, twitched twice, then picked his head up; he was bleeding badly in several areas now, and he was breathing a bit on the heavy side. Both Kuruk and Tazir were able to detect the deep-rooted fear that was in his eyes.

"Lhaklar!"

KurukVile turned; he looked at the youth that had been fighting, and attacking, his son for only a second before getting into a fighting stance. Only after hearing his brother say that he didn't know who the youth was, and that he wasn't the one that he had seen on Zeta Ren a month ago, had he gone to action in protecting his son. The youth was a strong one; he was powerful, and it seemed that he was fast and steady on his feet, but he was confident that he could down him with little to no problem.

He had no idea who the kid was; he had heard Lhaklar call him his brother a few times, and Tazir had heard both Bile and Lhaklar call him by that as well—despite this, he never considered him as being a nephew of his. KurukVile wanted the fight to end so he could have answers; he wanted to know who the kid was and he wanted to know why he had gotten involved in the fight. The youth swung his arms inward; rings of white fire began forming, going from his shoulders, then revolving down to his wrists. Before the youth could fire out his attack, Kuruk sent a bolt of red lightning out, which struck the youth on the leg, just above his knee. The youth's attack backfired on him as he fell back; sparks flew from his body, which only amplified the scream that came out of him.

"Alright now," KurukVile said as he walked forward. "Get your son, Tazir. He's dropped his form, nothing to worry over."

Lhaklar, who was struggling with the little strength that he had left in him to get up, only put a mild front up after feeling the hand fall on his shoulder; his father, he was quick in noting, after turning his head up and then to the side, helped him to his feet. Instead of letting him go after helping him to his feet, his father kept his hand on him—while he kicked, and thrashed weakly, the man held him close. His legs were more than a little wobbly; he was extremely tired, and extremely sore. He wished that his mother was nearby; he missed her, and he knew that she'd cause the fear that he currently felt disappear.

Nearby, he saw his grandfather, DuruVile Surfeit, subduing Bile, who was swinging his fists at him in a very weak way. Right before his eyes, the man forced Bile to walk forward—he let him stand unrestrained beside him for a few second before grabbing him by the arm that was injured. Kuruk, he saw, was taking Hazaar up from his lying place in a rough way; the way the man handled his brother caused his fear to skyrocket. Here was his uncle, grabbing, and acting in a very barbaric way towards his younger brother, who was probably just as tired, and injured, as he and Bile were. As if this wasn't bad enough, the man also glared at Hazaar with such hate and resentment; his fear towards the man actually killing Hazaar with little thought put in about who he was in regards to him was so great that he nearly pissed his pants.

He wondered what his uncle would do to his brother, he wondered if his uncle even knew who he had in his hands, and he wondered where Lazeer was. No word on where Lazeer was, or on what he was doing, had been said; Hazaar had just run up to fight Baruk, and to give him and Bile a breather.

In his terror, he imagined his baby brother being captured and then hurt; he remembered the articles that had been written in the newspapers. Lazeer was considered the unknown youth—the one who was said to be his mother's son, but who was also thought to have no relation to him or Bile or Hazaar. Would Hazaar be given that title as well? Lhaklar lunged forward just as his uncle threw Hazaar in his and Bile's direction; his little brother landed on his side right in front of him; he was quickly snatched up by Cheshire—a man who he now knew the name of, and who he also knew was his father's stepfather, and his step-grandfather.

"Let him go!" Lhaklar strained. "Please! Let him go!"

"Don't hurt him!" Bile cried.

"Who is this fellow, Boys?" KurukVile asked the two of them. "I don't take kindly to him hurting my son."

"He was helping us—you should be mad at your son, not at him, or us." Lhaklar said.

"I am mad at my son, Lhaklar." KurukVile replied. "Baruk will be getting disciplined the second we return to camp."

"You two fought Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir in defense, we aren't mad with you two." DuruVile spoke up.

"Who are you, Boy?" KurukVile jabbed his left hand into Hazaar's stomach.

"Don't touch him!" Lhaklar said as he lunged forward again. His father was fast in pulling him back.

"Lhaklar, that's enough. He's only try—" TazirVile started to say.

"Brother!" Lhaklar lunged forward again. "He's our brother you idiots!"

"Lhaklar!" TazirVile reprimanded his son. "You know better that to use such words to us."

"He's got Angel in him, that's without a doubt." KurukVile sighed. "So, Angel had yet another son by a dif—"

"Man, you best not be calling our mother a slut." Bile interrupted his grandfather.

"Bile!" TazirVile exclaimed. "Don't interrupt your elders—surely your mother has taught you that."

"I wasn't calling your mother a slut, Bile. I was just saying that she has another son by a different man." KurukVile said, he then looked at Hazaar. "Who are you?"

Cheshire had remained quiet throughout the entire exchange of frantic conversation that was experienced between Lhaklar, Bile, Kuruk, and Tazir; his eyes were trained on the youth that he was restraining. The youth was tall, about five foot, eleven inches; he was wearing a pair of multi-brown pants, that were faded slightly at the knees, but that were greatly faded at the inner and outer thighs, and a short sleeve, brown shirt. The shoes that were on his feet were brown; they had light brown ties on them.

The youth that he was restraining had an upside down, teardop-shaped head—the tail of hair that was hanging out from the nape of the back of the boy's head was a deep purple color; two of its strands were braided, there looked to be a bright yellow feather in-between both braided sections of hair.

Cheshire moved ever so slightly—so he could look at the youth's face. Once re-positioned, he saw that the fellow had all the attributes that one in the Zetakin species would have—an O-shaped mouth, two holes were a nose would normally be, and high cheek bones. The young fellow had a dark blue skin complexion; the deep purple, wrap-around eyes that the youth had were unique in the species that he thought he belonged to. The young fellow looked at him; he had a curious, yet angry, look in his eyes that Cheshire took clear note of. The young fellow had a hard as steel body; it was very lean, but it was packed with enough muscle to make him believe that he was around eighteen hundred years or so in age.

The youth didn't answer Kuruk; he remained close-lipped, which caused the man to become aggravated. Just before KurukVile could threaten the youth, Lhaklar yelled; TazirVile had a fight on his hands to keep control of him—one of the boy's arms had become loose... he was swinging it all over the place.

"Will you control that boy of yours!" DuruVile snapped at TazirVile.

"I've about had enough of this—I want to know who this guy is! He attacked my son—I don't like for anyone to harm my children, and that does include my older ones." KurukVile said angrily. He grabbed Hazaar by the front of his shirt, then yanked him away from Cheshire. "Who are you!"

A roar made all of them look up; an immense dragon, one that most of them hadn't seen in a long time, dropped from the sky then started attacking them. KurukVile was hurled to the side by the dragon's mighty tail, while DuruVile was swept away by one of the dragon's hands, which had long claws on it. Bile, now sans his restrainer, fell to his knees, while Hazaar was thrown two feet—when he landed, he lost almost all of his air.

Cheshire and TazirVile looked at the dragon—it was a most fearsome sight... one that they'd only come to remember after everything was said and done with.

The scales on the back and sides shone a most brilliant bright red color; the whiskers that trailed from the dragon's muzzle were a light red color—these whiskers swung down, then curled around the dragon's jaw, which looked to possess some mighty sharp teeth in it. The dragon had an emerald-green ring around its golden-yellow eyes, which had extremely tiny, black pupils in their centers. On estimate, the animal was forty to forty-five feet in length; the tail, which was as long as could be, had a sharp point on its end that was a fiery red color. The animal's nails were white, long, and sharp; the underbelly was yellow and smooth. The crests that were above the animal's eyes were yellow; the frill that ran down its back was feminine in structure, which did give the animal's gender away quite well. The pair of wings that were currently all folded up near the animal's sides were a medium red color; the insides of these wings were dark red in color.

Before TazirVile could say anything, or made the connection on who the animal was, the dragon opened her mouth; she breathed out a stream of black smoke, which made both he and his stepfather fall back. He lost his grip on Lhaklar, who dropped to his side like a sack of potatoes. Lhaklar was slow in getting to his feet; the second he was up, and somewhat mobile, he limped over to animal that dominated the area.

"No!"

TazirVile quickly got to his feet; the yell of terror that came out of him was a few seconds too late—he saw that his son had already reached the animal that had just gotten through attacking his brother and father, and then he and his stepfather. He became terrified for both his son and his adopted son; when he saw that the other youth was running towards the dragon's front side, he grew fearful for him too.

He swung his arms out, then wiggled the fingers on both of his hands; he sent two globs of black acid at the dragon—both of these struck the animal's shoulder. When the blobs of acid exploded, they created two, large holes on the areas where they had impacted.

Before he could send out another attack, he saw that there was someone on the dragon's back; he looked closer at this odd anomaly for a second before gasping—the dragon had the youth that he had seen on Zeta Ren on her back!

"Mom," he heard Lhaklar say.

"Ma," he heard Bile say.

"Mommy," he heard the youth, who had the tail of deep purple hair growing out from the nape of the back of his head, say.

Mom? Ma? Mommy?

He pondered them three words before taking a quick step back—of course! It had been a very long time since he had seen his wife in her dragon-form, and he hadn't expected for her to show up in it or to attack anyone while being in it. He hadn't noticed the eyes; the brightness of the scales; the fiery red, sharp spike that was on the end of the tail; and he had definitely not noticed how the dragon had taken up position in standing over the three boys that were flocking towards her.

Angel, in her dragon-form, was standing over Lhaklar, Bile, and the other youngster in a protective manner. Only after turning her long neck around, then giving his brother one of the most fierce glares that he had ever seen, did she go to retrieve the boys that were around her. She nudged the boy that was closest to her, which would be his and her oldest son, then she brought the hand that was closest to him over; Lhaklar climbed onto the hand as if it was nothing, then went for a ride as he was dragon-lifted to her back. Lhaklar, the child that they had created from their first coupling, sat behind the one youth that he had seen on Zeta Ren last month.

The youth who had the deep purple tail of hair on the back of his head managed to get up on her back on his own; Bile, on the other hand, required more than a little assistance. Bile couldn't climb; he was too tired to do so. TazirVile, KurukVile, TrobrencusVile, and Cheshire all watched as Angel gently grabbed the back of his shirt in her dragon-jaws; she was slow and careful in taking him up, and she was equally slow and careful in placing him behind the youth who had just gotten himself in position on her back.

With this latter action done, she turned, then looked at them; her large, dragon eyes glowed with hate... they were able to detect the deep growl that was coming from her.

"You ever come near my sons again," she said with a deep, rumbling growl, which made the animals nearby—the birds, the Pronghorn Antelope, and the wild horses—flee in panic. "you _will_ be sorry."

"Angel," KurukVile stepped forward; Angel reacted by swinging her tail to the side. He collided with a burning tree a second later.

"You'll be picking your flesh up from the desert if I even find out that you've hurt my sons again." Angel growled.

With that being said, she jumped up; her wings were un-folded, then flapped. Her legs were tucked underneath her as she flew off. She flew off with her four sons, two of whom TazirVile was clueless as to who they were, on her back. TazirVile followed her until she disappeared; he was mad at himself for his actions, and he was confused as to who the two youth's that his wife had just said were hers were. Just after Angel disappeared, with her four sons in-tote, TazirVile was overcome with something else—dread. Dread over not taking a stand in stopping Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir from fighting Bile and Lhaklar; dread over the injuries that they had gotten, which he could of prevented by putting an end to the fighting that had been going on in the area; and dread over what would come next.

He feared that what he had done in not taking a stand to protect him sons, and the one, unknown youth, had made a wedge appear between he and the woman that he was married to and their children.


	24. Part 3

The ones who were out and about in the hallways of the ship could hear the laughter, which was so pure, it was nauseating, loud and clear; each Goblin, and Goblinette, put a pause to what they were doing to chance a look at their surroundings before resuming the work that they were currently doing. Statues were polished; the bats, that lined the walls of certain hallways, were examined, then carefully dusted, then straightened; carpets were either cleaned with a broom or vacuum; and the lights that needed replacing were replaced. The ladder, that was in Hallway 34, was ascended by the man who had set it down; the filter, that was in the hallway's air-duct, was checked and then removed and replaced after the man noticed that it was clogged. Only after this filter was replaced did most on the hallway that the laughter was coming from turn their heads towards the room that their employer was in; the laughter was stemming from this room, which was closed and off-limits to everyone who might be curious about what was going on inside.

The room that the laughter was coming from was called the Meeting Room; for the last week, their employer had been holding himself in it, conducting meetings, or just compiling information on the latest efforts that his search for his wife and sons was conjuring. A week ago today, a surprise encounter had been experienced between the one who was the Goblins' and Goblinettes' employer and five members of his family—Mistress Angel, their employer's wife, had been seen as "rescuing" her sons from the enemy, which had been no enemy at all but her very own family, and she had been seen with not only the unknown youth that their employer had seen on Zeta Ren but also another youth, who she had been loud in calling a son of hers.

From what they all knew, everyone in their employer's family who had been close to their employer's wife had been called over for a meeting, which was currently underway; due to their recent contact with the woman, Homsi and Eldass were also members of this meeting.

Losal Khrelan, who was a distance from the Meeting Room, but who could hear the laughter very well, shook his head in both misery, disgust, and anger—he knew who it was that was laughing. Zshon Zultoa and Kalach Speelin, who were checking the airlock hatchway doors, to see if there were any cracks or holes in them, could also hear this laughter; these two men, who were quite sick of hearing what they were, decided to mute it. Mr. Speelin wasted no time in reaching into his brown tuxedo jacket, or in removing the pair of ear plugs that he had on him or in putting them in his ears; Zshon followed in his example by doing the same. Soon after the plugs were in place, the two went back to work.

"Vile, this isn't a time for acting outrageous." Irka said to the one who was issuing out that annoying laughter.

"I apologize, but just sitting here, listening to him say that he saw my daughter with not one but two not yet identified children, who have both called her their mother, is hilarious." Master Vile said. After saying this, he reached into his black robe; the black kerchief, that had his initials on it in thick, dark silver letters, was taken out. He used it to wipe his tear-leaden face. "Didn't I tell all of you at one time that she couldn't be trusted? _Didn't I_?"

"After having Angel, Bile, and Lhaklar returned to my place she showed no signs of drifting from me." TazirVile said.

"And yet here you are, saying that there are now two, unknown, mid-teenage boys calling her their mother." Master Vile said. "What, pray tell, does that say to everyone in this room? It's very obvious what she did after she took off with the kids."

"Tazir, keep what he just said in mind." Cyla said. "Before she disappeared, did she get any letters from any unknown men?"

"No." TazirVile replied. "Other than Gloar, the rest of her correspondence came from family."

"Who all corresponded with her?" Cyla asked.

"You and my father, my brother and Irka, my sisters, my and Kuruk's grandfather, my mother and Cheshire..." TazirVile started ringing out a list of who his wife had been in contact with before she disappeared with the boys.

"Could one of the Ubalki's of gotten to her? Efagti or Amadh or—"

"I beg you pardon but my husband and sons never indulged in anything sexual with Angel." Ashaklar spoke in defense of her family. "We spoke to her on the phone, yes, and we sent her mail, and we saw her in person, but no one of mine has had anything to do with her in that regard."

"I can vouch for both of my sons, and for myself, that none of us have had any sexual contact, or feelings, towards her." Cheshire said.

"According to my brother-in-law, this new unknown youth has dark blue skin—" Cyla pointed out.

"So what! The kid had a tail of purple hair behind his head and deep purple eyes as well..." Cheshire broke off after getting to his feet sharply. His wife responded by reaching up; she touched his arm to calm him down, which did do its intended purpose. He took a few breaths before sitting back down. "The only child that I've sired that has hair is Defe—my youngest daughter."

"My stepfather, and younger half-brothers, wouldn't of had any relations of that caliber with Angel." TazirVile said. "I can vouch for them myself."

He was forced into sighing after a mini-battle of words started between the woman that his father was married to, his nephew, and his mother; instead of staring at the bickering trio, he took his goggled glasses off, then placed them in the case that was before him, then rubbed his eyes. Cyla and Vile were pointing all sorts of useless junk out, and they were targeting Cheshire, Efagti, and Amadh, while his mother was simply defending the ones that were being accused.

None of the ones who were being accused of fooling around with his wife had done anything to cause what had been seen, and then heard, a week ago. The most physical contact that any of the male members of the Ubalki family had had with Angel was of the casual kind—a hug, that was all. The hugs that she had given to the male members of the Ubalki family had been nothing to give him cause for concern; Angel had been friendly with Cheshire, Efagti, and Amadh, and they had been friendly with her, but they hadn't gone so far as to sleep with one another or run off to have "private moments" that only they'd know about. A single hug would be given, then a greeting, then some small-talk—that was all that happened between the four of them.

He trusted his stepfather, and younger half-brothers, to know that they wouldn't try anything with his wife; they'd not touch her parts, or get too clingy with their greeting hugs, or disappear with his wife for minutes, or hours, at a time. If he hadn't trusted them then he wouldn't of had them come over for lengthy stays, where they would of had more than enough ample opportunities to get his wife in private or disclose any felt emotions towards her. Angel and the Ubalki's had treated one another as family, nothing more or less.

"Enough," he said after standing, and then gaining the attention of the ones around him. "My stepfather is innocent, as is his sons. I trust them to not try anything overbearing with my wife." after saying this, he got down to the meeting's main point of business. "I didn't get all that great a look at the kid that was seen a week ago; Kuruk, you grabbed the kid, did you get a good look of him?"

"Heh, Little Brother, I was so worked up after what happened between the boys that I couldn't keep my eyes focused." KurukVile admitted.

"Father—"

"Was too busy in keeping Bile under control. Why didn't you see the kid—you was there, you should of gotten a good look of him." DuruVile answered.

"I, too, was busy—had my work cut out for me in keeping Lhaklar under control." TazirVile replied, then asked. "Who restrained the kid?"

"That would be me," Cheshire said. "and I probably was the only one that got a good look at him. Before Kuruk grabbed him, I looked him over."

"What did he look like?" TazirVile asked.

"Tall—about five foot, eleven inches. Dark blue skin, deep purple eyes, a tail of deep purple hair that came out from the back of the head..." Cheshire started fumbling a little on the description. He struggled for a short while before bunching his left hand into a fist and then slamming it to the table's surface; a loud banging sound echoed about the room after he did so. "Tazir, that's the basic description. I remember more, but I can't put it into words at the moment. You have a keen knowledge of Telepathy, right?"

"Spent three hundred years in the University of Telepathy," TazirVile replied. "Why?"

"I give you permission to search through my mind for the memory of me getting a good look at that kid."

He had searched the minds of his family only a handful of times—the most recent having been done twenty-one hundred years ago; his father, grandfather, and brother had all given him their permission to search their minds and then collect the memories that revolved around what Vile had done to Angel. He had needed their memories for his court case in the Elder Courts and they had complied very well to his request.

He hated the idea of heading into his stepfather's mind to find the memory that he harbored from when he had gotten a good look at the new unknown youth that Bile and Lhaklar had been so worked-up about but, since his stepfather had given him his permission to do so, he found himself unable to not do so. It was either he look for the memory, then extract it, then look at it, or he not get any good sleep until the kid's next sighting—as it was, he hadn't been sleeping well for the week that followed his first sighting; he was almost ready to fall over, he was that damn tired!

TazirVile nodded his head; he brushed imaginary particles from the front of his striped, dark gray tuxedo jacket, which had twin tails that reached down to the floor on the back, then walked forward. Cheshire was fast in getting to his feet; his sons, Efagti and Amadh, knew what was about to happen—they got up, swallowed once, then took one of their father's arms. He was just reaching his stepfather when he decided to forgo the normal search and then retrieve method that one used when they used Telepathy; there was another way to search the man's mind, which would allow for not only he but everyone else at the table to see what all he managed to find.

After making the decision to forgo the traditional way that one used Telepathy, he walked off; it was no surprise to him when he heard one or two people at the table asking if he had gotten cold feet, or had had a change of heart in not doing as he had been given permission to do. There was a large, gray-stone bookcase to the left of the room; he went to it then started sifting through one of the hollow boxes that was on one of its shelves. There were several, 12x12 boxes on the bookcase, but he was focusing on just three of them; all sorts of documents, blank pieces of paper, and military strategy books were taken from the three boxes before the boxes were picked up and then taken to the table. Once the boxes were on the table's surface, he reached for the wand that was in the inside pocket of his jacket; once the wand was in his hand, he placed it to the temple of his stepfather's head.

"Memoria Exemplar," he said before swinging his wand up. When the wand was removed from his stepfather's temple, a bright blue strand was attached to it. The Memoria Exemplar spell was a spell used by one who had keen knowledge of Telepathy; it was a spell used to make a copy of a specific memory of the spell user's choosing. "invenire memoriam puer purpureo flavaque."

He was fast in wishing that his son would end his close-knit relationship with the man that his mother had gone and married; to him, for one in a family to be close to anyone of step-relation was an insult—other than feeling insulted by the close relationship that Tazir had with Cheshire, he also didn't much like Cheshire or hold him in good favor. He saw Cheshire Ubalki as nothing to his son; the man, who had pure Zetakin blood running through his veins, had done nothing to create Tazir, nor had he done any of the raising, or wound treating, or disciplining, or even education spending to ensure the boy having a good education under his belt. All the man had done was marry the boy's mother—and yet Tazir saw him in better regards than the one who had actually sired him!

His feelings towards the man went as far as to cause him to think that he was nothing more than low-down, dirty scum; the man might have married a woman from prominent backing but he had sure not sired anything of real value from her. Sure, the man might of sired three sons back-to-back with no trouble and, sure, he might have just two daughters, but that meant nothing—he had a total of seventeen children to his credit, with two of them seventeen being deceased either before being born or sometime after being born and a further two more being conquerors; he had proven himself while the farmer/miner hadn't.

Cheshire Ubalki had no grandchildren; he had plenty. Cheshire Ubalki had no great-grandchildren; he had a few. Cheshire Ubalki was a farmer and a miner; he was a man who's conquering campaigns had caused his name to be known far and wide.

DuruVile watched as his son disconnected the light blue strand from Cheshire's temple; the strand was tossed to the wall, where it went splat then spread out to about three feet in either way. As the retrieved memory played, he watched it; his secondborn son, who he still thought was under the value of his firstborn, stood, poised and ready with his wand... he was waiting for the retrieved memory to play an image of the youth that they had seen a week ago.

"Comminuet!" his son said when what he was waiting for played out for him.

The copied memory stopped playing right when the image of the back of the youth in question's head was shown; DuruVile was able to see the deep purple tail of hair that the youth had, and he was also able to see the two braided strands, which looked to have a yellow feather embedded in them, too.

TazirVile said the charm that'd allow him to grab the image that was on the wall before him; after waving his wand to the side, he took the paused image to one of the hollow boxes that sat on the table's surface. After the image was in place, he turned back to the wall; he undid the spell that he had just done then he watched the memory as it resumed play. He didn't have to wait long before the memory showed a facial image of the youngster; he said _comminuet_ again to make the memory pause then he repeated his prior move in moving the paused image to one of the hollow boxes. He put that image in one of the vacant hollow boxes then went back to viewing the memory; again, it didn't take long before another image of what he wanted to see was shown. After taking this third image, he decided that three was enough; he let the memory play itself out before swinging his arm.

The water, that was in three of the glasses that were on the table, rose out of their respective glasses then flew towards the wall; a call for a maid was made while he turned to go to the three hollow boxes that contained the stills of the memory that he had just gotten through watching. The water from three more of the table's glasses was lifted, then settled over the images that were in the boxes; before the images could be distorted, he waved his hand over them. With this action done, he said the spell that would make duplicates of all that were in the three boxes; the tip of his wand was thrown to the ceiling after the fragile images had been frozen and then turned into paper. With the images being in paper-form now, he said the spell that'd have then evenly distributed to all who were in the room.

Everyone but Cheshire, who was experiencing a bout of light-headedness due to having his mind searched, then in having a copy of one of his memories created and then removed from him, grabbed and then looked at the images that had just been distributed.

"Hazaar?" QeetaVile said after looking at the facial photograph of the youth that her brother had taken from Cheshire's copied memory.

"He does look quite a deal like him." Irka remarked. "That tail of hair of his really makes him look like Hazaar."

"I do agree with you two. He grew the hair out I see." DuruVile said, even he thought that the youth in the photograph was Hazaar.

"You tried so hard to get Tazzy to remove that tail of hair from his son's head," Ashaklar said. "My memory's sharp on that—you said that it made him look outrageous, and that his little tail of hair would make him look not serious when he grew up."

"This looks very much like Hazaar!" TazirVile said excitedly. "He was a hundred years old when Angel disappeared with the boys. He'd be—"

"One thousand, seven hundred years old—just starting his early mid-teens by our standards." Ashaklar said.

"You sure have some fine looking sons, Brother." QeetaVile said. "Lhaklar is one that will have the women swooning, Hazaar—"

"How can you be certain that this is who you think he is?" Master Vile asked. "Could be another kid that looks like him."

"Hazaar had dark blue skin, so does this fellow." Ashaklar started running the similarities between her son's secondborn son and the youth in the photograph. "Hazaar had wrap-around, deep purple eyes—so does this fellow. Hazaar was also born with a deep purple tail of hair, which had just barely stuck out from the nape of the back of his head."

"So, out of your three biological sons, only two have been seen alive and well." ShaamVile said, then sighed. "No sign of Lazeer though, right?"

"Sir, if I may," Homsi, who had remained quiet all during the meeting, said. After seeing the photograph of the new youth that his employer's wife had claimed as one of her own he had gotten excited. "there is one youth who is still unidentified. Could he not be Young Master Lazeer?"

"If that one youth turned out to be him I'll drop to my knees." TazirVile replied. "But... Lazeer was so little and fragile—Hazaar was so much more stronger than he was when he was born. It'll be a surprise if he's still alive, but I highly doubt if that other fellow is Lazeer."

"Should I head to Gamma Vile—take the headstones that're up in the cemetery that's behind my son's house down?" ShaamVile asked his grandson.

"Y—"

"No, I'd wait." DuruVile cut his secondborn son off. "Wait until we see this fellow again—wait until he gets an assured confirmation."

"I'm sure that what we have here in this memorically made photograph is Hazaar, dad." QeetaVile said.

"Although I agree with my sister, we will wait." TazirVile said while retaining the urge to pace the room. "Eldass... Homsi..."

"Sir," Eldass said.

"Yes, Master Tazir." Homsi said. Like Eldass, he stood from his chair at the mere mention of his name.

"Head back into the city that you saw my wife in; do a good scouting there—ask questions, take a camera with you. If you see my sons, and that does include Bile—" TazirVile looked at Master Vile, who scowled at him. "—take a picture of them. Do the same if you see that other fellow—the one with the periwinkle-blue skin."

"Yessir, Master Tazir." Homsi bowed, then left the room. Eldass did the same before following him.

"In the mean time, I'll send several Goblins to the county that Angel said she and the boys lived in." TazirVile said. "Camp will remain here; if any of you wish to leave, and return to your lives, or decide to head somewhere else to do a different search, you can."


	25. Chapter 25

From the Park County, Powell _Tribune_ , September 28, 4099 (Page 2)  
Goblins? In Park County?

Yesterday, at 10:35 AM, a flurry of reports started being made to the authority stations located in and around the lower areas of Park County, Wyoming; at around noon, the reports grew to such a high number that authorities started wondering if a group of pranksters weren't at work in trying to pull an early Halloween scare. The reports that were made to the various stations of lower Park County were much the same; that a group of Goblins, who were wearing various outfits, from army fatigues to tuxedos, and all being said to have a range of skin colors from either plain or medium green, brown, and blue, were seen as entering certain structures or scaring people who were mindlessly walking around, minding their own business.

Only two locations where the reported Goblins were seen as entering have footage of the creatures being in their establishments; all other reported locations have no footage to show that the creatures were in them, which is why most of the authorities think that a majority of the reported sightings are nothing more than a gang-inspired prank. Kay's Jewelers, located in the town of Meeteetse, on Ausable River Drive, and the Walmart located in the town of Wapiti, on Colrain Street Southwest, are the only locations where the sightings have been taken seriously; all other reports have been said to be looked at with a less serious mind. The footage from Kay's Jewelers and the Walmart on Colrain Street Southwest is grainy, but it does show three creatures that seem to match the fabled, legendary little creatures that became apart of folklore in the 12th century.

The Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, located in Mammoth; the Food Lion located in Cody; and a pawnshop called Charles' Pawn 'n' Sell, which is located in southwest Cody, have also been said to be recipients of the Goblins, but none of these establishments have viable security footage that shows the reported creatures as being in them.

As of 2:34 PM, no further reports on the Goblins were made, which does seem to confirm the authorities' assumptions over the reports being pranks. The cease in report-making happened at the time were interest in the creatures reached its peak; though still a bit unnerved over the reports, civilians of Park County have returned to normal living.

From the Sheridan County, Sheridan _Press_ , October 1, 4099 (Page 1)  
Big Horn Experiences Prank Calls?

Park County, Wyoming experienced a small scare two days ago when a good number of reports came in about Goblins running amok in the county's lower-most areas; after a few hours of report checking, most authorities deduced that a majority of the calls that were coming in were being placed by patrons who were playing an early Halloween prank. It looks like the ones behind them early Halloween prank calls decided to migrate to our county—ten calls, all coming from people of questionable character, came in; all made-reports claimed that a group of Goblins, who either had green, blue, or brown skin, and most wearing army fatigues, were seen in and around the towns of Big Horn, Arvada, and Story.

The group of Goblins, one being said to be wearing something similar to what one would wear when they're attending a dinner party, and all said to be between four foot, three and four foot, eight inches tall, were said to be doing exactly that of what the ones in Park County did—enter certain establishments, or scare unsuspecting civilians.

It's being reported that most of the authorities in our county stopped taking further calls after the tenth call was put in; one of the reputed calls that were placed is said to of come from a woman, who claimed that she was taken captive, and then questioned about where the Goblins' master's "wife and children" were. According to the station that's located in Clearmont, an estimated twenty calls were placed; of them twenty, only ten were investigated. Nothing of them ten placed calls was found, which makes some think that the pranksters from Park County, Wyoming had simply moved shop to our county after seeing that their pranks weren't being taken to heart in the county that they started pranking.

From the Hot Springs/Washakie County, _Combined County Gazette_ , October 2, 4099 (Page 1)  
Hot Springs/Washakie County and Johnson County Authorities Debunk Goblins

Earlier this week, the pranks issued to the police located in Park County and Sheridan County were taken as just that; the pranks, which have continued to this mid-week, are no longer being looked at as harmless. Authorities in the combined counties of Hot Springs/Washakie and Johnson were called to action after calls came in about civilians who had been injured, or taken captive, and then retained in captivity for a length of ten minutes or more, by the very ones who are making these pranks. The situation is so serious that a curfew has been placed to the two counties; adults between the age of 21 and 55 are being told to be mindful of their actions if they venture outside of their homes while children under the age of eighteen, and adults above the age of fifty-five, have been told to remain indoors until the call's given that the pranksters have been caught and then thrown in jail.

Authorities in Hot Springs/Washakie and Johnson County started receiving calls just last night, at around midnight, about the pranksters' deeds; though taking a cautionary interest in the calls, the authorities didn't inact the curfew, or say for the young and old to stay indoors, until word reached them about the four people who were taken captive and then assaulted by the very ones who were behind the pranks. A curfew of 6PM was initially placed, then upped to 5PM after two police officers were dispatched to look into a report about a woman who was reportably beaten to within an inch of her life; the woman who was beaten was taken to Washakie Medical Center—she is said to be in critical, but stable, condition.

"There is no Goblins—the ones behind the pranks that have been experienced these past few days are human, and are around middle to high school age." the chief of the Johnson County police station, Jerry M. Lowe, said upon being questioned about the pranksters.

Despite Mr. Lowe's statement, there's two stores located in mid-Johnson County that seem to show three squat-sized creatures that resemble Goblins; Mr. Lowe didn't comment on this after it was brought up to him. Mrs. Sonya V. Chasse, the sheriff for the combined counties of Hot Springs and Washakie, claims that the footage simply shows three, normal-sized humans who were simply duck-walking about the two stores.

The authorities are now tracing calls placed to their stations about the reputed "Goblins"; it's been reported that twenty persons have been arrested for calling the stations of both counties to report encounters with alleged Goblins—the last person to be apprehended was a store manager, who claimed that his store, Film 'n' Reel, was ransacked by the Goblins in question. Film 'n' Reel was discovered to be ransacked by police after the arrest was made; though he claims to be innocent of the crime, the manager of the store is said to be the party responsible for the ransacking. At the time of the arrest, several other stores were noted as being ransacked as well—a number of videos, books, games, and a wide assortment of candies are the only things to be noted as stolen; all monies in the ransacked stores were found as being intact in their registers or vaults.

"We are actively looking to resolve the issue so everyone can return to normal living. We're estimating that by noon of today we'll have the pranksters in custody." Mr. Lowe said early this morning. Everyone is waiting in earnest to see if his words are true, and to see if the pranksters are really of human origins.

The _Combined County Gazette_ article was given the same treatment that the Sheridan _Press_ and Powell _Tribune_ articles were—he cut it out, then placed a book on it to ensure that it'd be flat; after taking it up from underneath the book, then checking to see if it was really flat or not, he placed it in the folder that he had putting the other articles that he had been clipping from the papers as of late in. He, like his mother, and brothers, had been keeping up-to-date on things with this "Goblin" business that had been going on up north of their location; while he and Bile had taken the situation seriously Lazeer had been casting all sorts of jokes about it. Hazaar, from time to time, would become involved in the joking; for the most part, he had been uninterested in what was going on in Park County, Sheridan County, Hot Springs/Washakie County, and Johnson County. He had gotten a shock after seeing their mother not reacting to what was going on; instead of being all worried about the people that lived in them counties, or wanting to help them in ousting the Goblins, she had been as calm and a quiet as could be on the subject.

Normally, their mother was one of the more serious ones in the house. On any normal day, she'd come home, set her stuff down, unwind from her day, then ask them how their day was; only after hearing them tell their tales of wonder, or, depending on what the day's activities were, non-wonder, she'd speak of how her day was. After the tales of what all one did while out of the house were told, she'd head down to the cellar; he'd follow—only after getting her alone would he engage her in adult-related subjects, such as the finances; where the money was coming from for this bill or that bill; where the money was coming from for Lazeer's glass; where the money were coming from for the usual food stuffs that were needed for the cabinets or fridge; and, of course, of each of their worries and concerns.

His mother's mind, as of late, was especially bogged down with all of them issues; along with also worrying about them things he also had a bunch of other things weighing him down—his worry list had been increased by two very recently. As of the last three weeks, he had grown concerned over Hazaar actually getting so mad that he'd decide, just for the hell of it, to run away from home. He also worried about Hazaar causing intentional harm to himself, or to one of them, during one of his temper tantrums. These two, very similar concerns had caused him to miss some sleep, and he had actually made the decision to skip out on going to work because of them.

His worry over Bile not looking to have any sort of responsible bone in his body was the same, as was his concern over Lazeer's depression issues—the issue of his youngest brother causing himself harm because of his depression was still there, he had yet to scratch it from his list of worries or forget about it. His concerns over their mother, and her health and relative well-being, was also still the same; the personal issues that gave him cause for a little concern—figuring his legs out, so he could get faster sooner, and keeping himself in tip-top form while also trying to not over-do it, for example—were also the same.

As of the last three days, his and his mother's talks on the adult-related stuff had come to a complete stop; he was no longer allowed to follow her to the cellar, and it seemed that his attempts in talking to her about the bills, the pantry, Lazeer's glass, and their general worries and concerns were for nothing. She either didn't want to talk to him about them things or she wasn't listening to him whenever he brought them subjects up.

"Probably glad that they were seen as being up north of here instead of here." he thought as he closed the green folder that his collected newspaper articles were in. Though this was a reasonable explanation as to why his mother hadn't shown any concern over what had been going on in the counties to the north of them he had a feeling that there was some other cause to her showing no reactions to what had been going on.

As was the now usual, they had gotten both the usual papers, from both their town, the towns around them, and from the counties both to the north, east, and west of them, and the papers from the various planets that were known to be in the Universe; Granny D was still sending them the papers that were distributed to the denizens of the Universe's other planets and they were still reading them. As of the last few weeks, he had developed a keen interest in the Gamma Vile paper, and the papers that were distributed around the Zeta Reticuli system; their mother, who knew this well, had asked Granny D to send them a paper each from Gamma Vile and from one of the planets in the Zeta Reticuli system each morning and, so far, she was doing so.

After closing his folder, then standing up from the table, he ran his hand down his left arm gingerly; his mother had done all that she could to heal his burned arm—she had used her Water Healing ability, which was a sub-power in the Elemental Water power, on his arm for all of ten minutes in an attempt to get the burned areas to heal. He had nearly started crying—the pain was that damn bad for him! His brothers, even in their pained states, had done all that they could to calm him down to nearly no avail—their attempts in calming him down had very nearly fallen on deaf ears.

He had started feeling the pain right after being placed on his mother's dragon-formed back; it hadn't been that bad at first... he had been able to feel it, but it hadn't been enough to cause him to nearly crack. By the time his mother had flown into the shield, and then gotten them halfway home, it had started to creep in stronger; the pain had all but taken him over after he had taken the initiative in sliding from his mother's dragon-formed back after the voyage from Sweeney Ranch to their apartment was finished. The door to the apartment was thrown open, she had led them inside then she had told them to plant it on either the living room sofa or on the living room's lone chair. After they were seated, then somewhat comfortable, she went for the medical supplies—tubes and jars of creams, rolls of bandaging, anti-septics, a few bottles of water, and a large, ceramic bowl had been in her arms when she returned. Since he had been the one who was experiencing the most pain, she had gone to work in trying to fix him up first.

"While she was able to heal the cuts to my face, and to the other parts of my body, she wasn't able to heal my arm." he thought as he went to exit the kitchen.

He felt no anger or remorse towards that; she had done the best she could to heal every injury that he had had on himself. His arm had just been too far-gone for her to heal with her powers—it was the severity of the burns that had caused her to not be able to heal him; upon coming home, then taking his shirt off, then giving his arm a quick examining, he had found himself as having extreme second and third degree burns.

Pain had ripped and roared all throughout his arm right after the examining was done. He had felt it as it ran its course in his arm; by the time it had started being felt in his shoulder, then had started to creep down to the rest of his body, he had been near to crying in grief. It had almost felt like there was a colony of fire ants biting him, or trying to burrow out from inside him—that was the only comparison that he could think of to describe the pain that he had been feeling.

His mother, while speaking to him, trying to get him to calm down, had been hard at work in trying to help him. The water that had been put in the bowl had risen more than six times; it had only just been settled over his arm before being moved, or revolved, around and around. Only after the water had gone from its normal, clear color to black had it been removed; the blackish water had been returned to the bowl, then allowed to return to its normal coloration, before being used again. In all, it had taken six or seven tries with the ability before any results started being seen; by the time she had used her Water Healing ability on him for the tenth time, the pain had subsided.

He still had high-level first and second degree burns on his arm; while he still felt pain, it wasn't as bad as it had been after he had come home. He was grateful that his mother had been there, and that she had gone out of her way in trying to help him—if she hadn't, he would of landed in the hospital. He could see it now... the nurses would fuss and fret over him, would hook all sorts of intravenous drips to him before going on to examining his injured limb; only after looking his burned arm over would they start the standard procedure in putting an unknown amount of non-working medications on him. The doctors in charge of his care would only come into the room that he was in after he was in a more comfortable, and "stable", condition; they would check him over as a team before the head-honcho of the group would head out to talk to his mother about the available options that could be used to help him in his situation. After, say, an hour or two, he'd be prepped for the first of many surgeries that he'd endure over the next six months; if his arm was too far-gone—wouldn't accept the pieces of flesh that the doctors would take from other parts of his body so to close the wounds that were in danger of gaining worse than bad infections—the decision to amputate it would be made.

He was glad that his mother knew the abilities that one with Elemental powers could use to heal their injuries with and he was double-glad that she had made the decision to use one of them on him; while he could accept not having both of his arms he didn't want to imagine the life that he'd have after one was removed.

As was natural, he had gone upstairs for a much needed rest after being treated for his many injuries. Nurse Mom had been very helpful in helping up the stairs, and in getting him into bed; only after seeing that he was fine had she gone down to tend to Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer.

"We were allowed to sleep all day long the following day; the day following, we were allowed to just laze around." he thought as he stopped before the kitchen's open doorway. "Bile and I were too sore to get up from bed, so we were allowed to stay in bed on that day; Hazaar just sat in the living room all day."

Their mother, when time came for them to finally get up, and move around some, had helped them; along with helping them in getting out of bed, and then getting dressed in something that'd cover the parts of their bodies that didn't need to be exposed to all who were out and about outside of the apartment, she had also helped them in going down the stairs. She had taken Bile first, then she had come back for him; only after he was helped down to the kitchen had he noticed that she had been cooking.

Two bowls of spaghetti, one with meatballs and the other without; a plate of buttered biscuits, some with jelly in them and others without; a bowl of plain baked potatoes; a heaping bowl of salad... that and more was what had been on the kitchen table. After eating all of this, then complimenting the chef on her fine culinary talents, had they learned what dessert was.

A layered pound cake, that was filled with raspberry jam and lemon curd, and that was finished with buttercream frosting, had been placed before them after the table was cleared of its collection of bowls, plates, and eating utensils. He, and his brothers, had devoured that cake in no time. Conversation at the table had been grand; talk on the fight had been minimal, very little mention of Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir had happened, while talk on the food, and on what they were planning on doing after getting past their sore days, had been plentiful. After eating the cake, then giving the chef a further compliment on her skills in the kitchen, they had been helped to the living room. A few hours of watching tv, or playing video games, or just plain reading magazines or newspapers, had happened before he and Bile were helped back to their room.

It had taken him and Bile all of six days before being able to get up, and move around, on their own power; on the pain scale, his pain was a high-level five now—he was able to move around, and be involved in certain activities that one didn't have to put but so much effort in on, yes, but he was still bogged down with enough pain to cause him to not want to resume the life that he was use to living. As it was, he had missed out on a week and five days worth of dancing at the club where he worked at—this, he imagined, was putting quite a damper to the family finances.

"Hey," Hazaar said after seeing that he was standing just within the living room.

"Hey," Lhaklar replied.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah—not as sore as I was last week."

"Same here."

Lhaklar looked at his younger brother; they would of all been surprised if he had come home unscathed from the fight that happened a week and five days ago. With Hazaar taking on Baruk, then finding himself fighting their uncle and grandfather, and also finding himself having a minor opponent in their father, he had come home with a few injuries—all that he had griped, and moaned and groaned, about, and all that had been mom-treated.

The acid burn that had been on his stomach, which had come courtesy of their old man, had been bad enough to hurl over while the injury that he had had to his right leg had very nearly caused their mother to squeal. His ribs had also been badly bruised—good, ol' Uncle Kuruk was the cause for both of the latter injuries. Like with him and Bile, their mother had done the best she could to help Hazaar and, like with them, the use of her Water Healing ability had only been able to heal but so much.

Underneath Hazaar's red t-shirt was a wrap of bandages; the burn to his stomach had only been able to be healed halfway, the rest had been given the normal medicated treatment. Their mother changed the bandaging, checked the wound, then applied the creams and other medicines to it, then re-wrapped it in new bandage once a day. His brother's leg had been the worst of his received injuries; like with the burn to Hazaar's stomach, the wound to his leg had only been able to be healed halfway—instead of using her Water Healing ability on the wound their mother had used her Fire Healing ability, which was yet another ability that one with Elemental powers could use, but this one coming from Elemental Fire instead of Elemental Water, on it. Hazaar's leg, from the knee on up to his groin, was wrapped in bandaging; the use of her Fire Healing ability had only been able to make the first layer of skin grow back—the wrap of bandaging was only precautionary; their mother hadn't had a desire for Hazaar to get any sort of infections, or cause further injury to himself by plain leaving the leg open to the elements.

"Bile," Lhaklar acknowledge the oldest of his brothers.

"Lhaklar," Bile, who was seated on the room's Laz-Y-Boy chair.

"Look well this morning."

"Feel better than what I was a week and five days ago." Bile admitted. "If you're wondering, I'm still very stiff and sore."

The Laz-Y-Boy that Bile was sitting on was a few years old; it was made of a dark brown, velvety material that was quite soft, and it had a recliner hidden in it. The chair that his brother was sitting on was reminiscent of the types that drunk men sat on when they were watching their shows while downing another beer or two—as it was, the chair was mostly used by Bile whenever he was watching a program on the tube. Bile was wearing what he called his Night Clothes, which was just a pair of red and white boxer shorts, that went down to his skeletal knees, and a white t-shirt, that was baggy as all get out and that was all torn up in the shoulder areas.

Like with him and Hazaar, their mother had done the best she could with healing Bile's injuries; the older of his brothers' right shoulder had been fully healed but the deep gash that he had to his chest was still there—their mother was fast in checking it every day after coming in from work. His legs had all sorts of bandages on them; like him, Bile's burned arm had needed to be tended several times before being healed to the state that it was currently in.

Bile had been too tired, and in too much pain, to enter the apartment under his own power; their mother, after downing her form, then unlocking and then throwing the front door open, had practically carried him in. The pain that he had been going through had been enough to make him squeeze the arms of the chair that he had been placed in; as it was, he had damn near screamed himself hoarse after their mother went to examine the injuries that he had been given by Baruk and Bohir.

Their mother, who, on his request, had saved him for last, had been exhausted by the time that she had reached him; instead of using her Water Healing ability on him she had used something that she called Smoke Healing, which had gotten some very surprising results. Due to his brother's burns not being very deep, and not as severe as his, his right arm had nearly, fully been healed—despite this, it had still been wrapped in bandaging. To that day, it still pained him.

"Who's winning the game?" Lhaklar asked. Hazaar and Lazeer were playing a football game on the room's tv, which was around thirty of so inches in width and length, and which was on a short, brown walnut entertainment center.

"At the moment, Lazeer." Bile replied. "Was back and forth for a little while—he's two points ahead."

"Extra point, hell yeah!" Lazeer exclaimed.

"Make that three." Bile said.

Lazeer, who had the red remote to one of the tv's gaming devices, had come off better than they with his injuries. Even though he hadn't been involved in any of the fighting he had gotten his shoulder injured after being struck by a car; their mother had done one session with her Water Healing ability on him before declaring him healed of all injury-based ailments that he had been inflicted with. After healing him of his one injury, she had told him to go take care of his eye, which had become exposed to the sun just prior to the car hitting him.

Lazeer, for the past week and five days, had acted as a sort of nurse for them—things such as food and drink; magazines, books, or newspapers; and games had been brought to them during the period where they had been too sore to get up from bed.

He and Lazeer had played chess and checkers three days in a row while Bile, for four straight days, had enjoyed an age-old favorite—after being brought Lazeer's old Gameboy, he had asked for the bag that the games were in then he had set down to playing a few of them. He believed that the game that had mostly been played had been Pacman; another game, this one sounding very Tetris-like, had also been frequently played.

The Gameboy device that Lazeer had was from the old days; their mother had found it one day in the dump. After coming across it, then checking it to see if was working or not, and then noticing that it was in near-pristine condition, she had brought it home; along with the handheld gaming console, she had also found a bag full of old games that were more than compatible with the device. The Gameboy was old but, damn, did it ever play fine.

There were all sorts of game systems hooked up to the tv; the Nintendo 64, which Hazaar and Lazeer were playing, and the Playstation 2 and 3 were the most played while the Playstation 4 and Super Nintendo were a close fourth and fifth to them. Like with the Gameboy, the game systems that were hooked up to the tv had all been found in the dump; it had either been their mother or Bile who had come across them, their mother was the one who had the credit in finding all of the games that they had that were compatible with each of the game systems. Most of the games had been found in the dump while others had been purchased from the town's flea market; he and his brothers were more than happy to have their gaming systems and their mother was more than happy to know that they had them to enjoy—they played one, or more, of them at least twice a day and, thanks to the wide assortment of games that they had, none of them had a chance to grow bored with them. Sometimes, their mother joined them in playing a game; she seemed to be rather fond of playing Super Mario 64, and she also seemed to have an interest in Red Dead Redemption... which just so happened to be one of Hazaar's most favorite games, and which just so happened to be compatible with the Playstation 3 gaming console.

Hazaar, who hadn't been able to tend his hair in the week and five days that had fallen since their encounter with Baruk, Gaajah, and Bohir, and Lazeer were playing a game called Madden Football 64—which, owing to it being released in 1997, was older than all of them combined, but still played as if it had just been removed from the box. There was a small pile of games beside them; it looked like his younger brothers had played Duck Hunt, The Legend of Zelda, and Super Black Bass—the latter being a game for the Super Nintendo console while the rest being strictly for the same console that his two brothers were playing.

"Wanna play?" Lazeer asked after he and Hazaar finished their game. Hazaar was now looking for another game to play—one of the plastic boxes that were in the entertainment center's lone cabinet was out; his brother was busily sifting through the many games that were inside.

"No. Thank you but no." Lhaklar said. "Think I've been cooped up long enough—think I'll head out; maybe a dip in the spring or something will help me, and my sore body, some."

"Lhaklar, you insane? Ma would have a bird! First, she'd flip her lid, then she'd track you down, then she'd chase you all around Green River with a nice, fresh, dish towel." Bile said.

"They're up in the north—there's nothing to worry about down here, Bile." Lhaklar, who was very decisive on doing what he had just said he wanted to do, said. "I'll be near Expedition Island; if I'm not back by noon, you know what to do."

As with the previous twelve days, he threw a red tack on the map, that was up on the wall of the room that he was in, then turned to look at the Goblins that were in the room with him; the men in the room with him were, what he considered, the "leaders" of the groups that he had been sending to the towns and cities up north of their location—these men, who had been given orders to stay low while searching the counties that were located in the state's northern sector, had not been going by the orders that he had given them, which did more than piss him off.

Each of the locations that he had sent these men, and their respective groups, to had had a shield over them; his wife's shields were holding up well, he had been told, and there looked to be little to no wear and tear to them, which was good, seeing as the one who was behind them had to be healthy for them to still be up and in better than fine shape. Park County was where his wife had said she and the boys lived in; he had based his search to that part of the state before deciding to do searches of the other counties that were close-by—when no leads, or sightings, of his wife and children were noted, he had come under the notion that Homsi and Eldass had been given a false lead.

Instead of just sending members of his militia to Park County, and then to the counties that were close to it, he had made the decision to send an even mix of both his militia Goblins and staff to the locations—the idea, at the time, was that the even mix would cause the members of his military, who had been said to not be putting their full heart in on looking for his wife and sons, to do better in their searches; it looked like that idea had not happened.

He had nothing but air, and a map that had more than enough red tacks on it, and more than enough reason to be angry at the men who were in the room with him. Each of the red tacks that were on the map symbolized the areas that had been searched; the communities that lie in the northern sector of Wyoming were nearly all taken up by one of the red tacks. With the tack in place, and his anger noted, he walked over to the long, black-stone table that was in the room's center; once at the table, he took the chair that was stationed at its front-lying end out then sat in it. He folded his hands after his rump found itself to the seat of the chair.

"I'd like for an explanation as to what the hell you were all thinking when I sent you off to do your searches?" he eyed the men who were in the room with him for a second before saying more. "I clearly recall giving the order for you, and your groups, to be as secrete as possible and yet—" he grabbed the folder that was in front of him, which was open, and which had several newspaper articles in it, then held it up. "—ten sightings in Park County, twenty in Sheridan, and a little over thirty in Hot Springs/Washakie and Johnson counties... that's sixty-four sightings! That is not secrete! That is you hanging your asses out in the open!"

"Sir, at the time of our appearance in the north, a sort of festival was going on—there were a lot of humans walking about." Losal said. "We did our best to remain in the shadows but—"

"Your best is peanuts when you've been seen by the public eye!" TazirVile threw the folder that had the articles in it at Losal; the Goblin reacted by holding his hands up—while the articles flew from the folder, none of them struck him in the face. After throwing the folder, TazirVile turned his attention to Homsi, who was seated in one of the table's stationed chairs. "I sent Homsi and Eldass into Green River the day that I also sent them, and you and Kalach, into Park County; there were no reports from Green River about them and their activities now were there?"

"No sir," Losal replied.

"Then what's the damn problem! You and the others that I sent out have the same education as they and yet here we are. Reports of abductions, threats, thefts, and now human civilians being thrown in jail because the law on this planet thinks that they are causing disruption."

"We had to question the humans and—" Losal started to say, Eldass was fast in interrupting him.

"We've been using the Memory Block spell on the humans that we've taken to interrogate and we've been checking the area that we're in before the one that we've targeted to capture is grabbed."

"That's smarts!" TazirVile exclaimed. "Mr. Zultoa and Mr. Modulavich have both used their educations well, and have come back with good intel from the town closest to us, while the rest of you, along with the other men not present in this room, haven't! All you've done is make yourselves known to the general public." when no one said a thing, he slammed his fist against the surface of the table. "I expect better from all of you! All of you were picked to search the state's northern-lying sector because you were associated with my wife in some degree. If you're not going to use your time on this planet to assist in finding my wife or sons, or in keeping my ship tidy, then leave. I want my wife and sons and all of you have hindered my efforts for twelve long days. Begone!"

They were all thinking the same thing when they exited the room that was directly across from the one that was their personal lounge: it could of been worse.

Their Master could of really gotten on their cases for what the ten Goblins from his army, who he had personally picked to go with them, had done. Although they had been gotten on, it hadn't been a full on-you type of chiding—their employer would of been wringing his hands around their necks, and would of been calling them all sorts of names, if it had been one of them types of chidings. The man would of also overturned his chair after shouting at them to leave his presence if the chiding that they had been given had been a full on-you type. His get-on wasn't fully meant; they worked, and they worked hard, and he knew this. The ship was spotless—so much so that the man could eat off the floors—, and there was not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, and everything was working properly.

The room that they had just come from had a brown-checkered carpet, and brown walls, in it; the ceiling, while a degree lighter in color, matched the room's color theme well. The room's long, black-stone table had a gold T and S—their employer's initials—on its surface; the fourteen chairs that were seated around it had chocolate brown cushions on their backs and seats. There were several screens in the room; half of them were the normal color-range type while the others gave off green images. The green screens were the ones that had the important information on them—their coordinates, the places that they had previously been landed at, and the radar and sonar information that one who owned a ship needed to know. Underneath all of these screens were the computer keyboards and command centers. On the wall was an oil painting of their Master; he was standing, looking just as proud as could be after winning a battle on one of his conquered planets. He had been painted shirtless; the muscle, scars, sweat, and blood that were on his chest and arms had been painted well, as had the background imagery—there was an exploding building on a waterfront, which was surrounded on all sides by trees, which were all on fire. All sorts of people were fleeing in panic from the armies of the man that they worked for.

Homsi, thinking better than to go to the lounge, where most who had attended the meeting that they had just left were going, decided to head outside. He wasn't far off from the ship's main entrance—just a short fifty feet. He stopped long enough to grab the items that were needed for weather that was below sixty degrees then went towards the airlock hatchway doors; when he exited his master's ship, he was greeted with a chilly breeze. The doors behind him slid shut, sealing the ship, and its heated air, behind him. He had no more taken two steps from the ship's main entrance before feeling the ship's hot air blow on him—Eldass, and his son, Zshon, exited the ship soon after he did.

"Cold this morning!" Zshon exclaimed. When a better than chilled breeze hit him, he shuddered. "What'd the thermometer say before we left the ship?"

"Forty-six degrees," Eldass replied. "For this planet, that's about right for this time of year—it gets much colder here later on in the season."

"How much colder, papa?" Zshon asked.

"Goes down into the negatives." Eldass replied. "Which means, if we're still here at the time the temperature plummets, coat, double coat, and triple coat."

"Or else, Mother will be on us worse than a hot coal." Zshon cocked his elbow into his father's ribs; his father responded by chuckling.

"Glad we decided to don our coats before leaving the ship." Homsi, who was wearing a brown trench-coat, said. "Hope the Mistress and her sons are alright. Staying warm, and are being fed well."

"I'm sure that she has the needs of both herself and the Young Masters taken well care of." Eldass said. "The more pressing question, for me, is where they are."

"A question that I'd also like to know." Homsi said.

Homsi looked at the landscape that was around him; it shouldn't be but so surprising that the once fertile area, which had been teeming in green grass and sugar cane, and more than enough bushy bushes and trees, had turned into being a dead area in four days time. The grass had withered away; the yellow shoots of the yellow grass fields to his left had become brown before falling over to the ground; the raging river that was close to his employer's camp was frozen in places; and the trees and bushes were nearly fully naked of their leaves. There was not an animal in sight either—all had either moved south for the upcoming winter or had taken refuge in the structures that they had built over the warmer months. The only thing that gave the area a living quality was the steam cloud, which was north of their location.

He and Losal had explored the area a few weeks ago; while this area was fertile, everything that was around it was just as dry, and as arid, as could be. Nothing but dirt, dust, tumbleweeds, and rocks were to the north, west, and south of them. Really, the only thing that had called the women, and a few of the men, from the area had been the area's lone hot spring, which was about a half mile from them.

The water was warm—not scolding or boiling hot as some would think it'd be—and it did provide for some comforting moments. He had given the hot spring a try once—when it had been night, and when most everyone in the area was bedded down. The hot spring had done its trick in relieving him of his stresses, and it had helped to relieve the tension that he had had in his muscles as well. He hadn't stayed long—just fifteen minutes... just long enough to call it an experience worth experiencing. He couldn't believe that the humans didn't head to such locations more often; surely such a place would be a hot-spot for wary, tired, or pained humans who were looking for some relief from their daily stresses.

"Don't see why we can't head out for a stroll," Homsi thought as he went down the ramp; after exiting the ramp, he took a turn then went towards the hot spring. Eldass and Zshon, having nothing better to do, followed him. Losal, when he came out from the ship, wasted not a second in catching up to them.

For one who wasn't so ravaged with body-pains, the task of removing the clothing from the body would be easy; for him, and his aching body, the chore proved to be more than difficult. He was slow in undoing the buttons that were on his brown, button down, long sleeve shirt, and he was slow in taking the shirt from his top half and in dropping it to the ground. When the task came for him to take his pants off, he very nearly started to cry; sitting down after undoing the belt that was around his waist, then undoing the button, and then unzipping the zipper, wasn't easy, and neither was the task of taking his shoes and socks off. With them tasks done, he used the little strength that he had left in him to get to his knees; his pants, and underwear, were removed in one quick action, then kicked to the side.

With all of this taken care of, he started crawling. He left everything—his clothes; his wallet, which had his fake I.D., and around twenty dollars, in it; and his cigarette case, which glistened in the glow of the near-afternoon sun—in an uneven pile behind him as he went forward. When he got to the edge of the hot spring he didn't slide in like a normal person would; he ducked his head low then allowed the weight of his body to take him into the water. Once his body smacked into the water, his muscles screamed—first in pain, then in relief as the warm water started its magic. He stayed underwater for ten or so seconds before surfacing; just that one dip seemed to of rejuvenated him—he was able to bring his hands up to wipe the water from his face and head without experiencing any pain, and he was able to move his legs in a less pained way. Soon after surfacing, then wiping his face of the water that was flowing down it, he turned his head.

The area around him was bleak; dirt, which had been bleached by the summer heat, and which had a consistency akin to sand, shown brilliantly in the near-afternoon sunlight. There was a line of bushes that ran around the outer edges of the hot spring's bleached grounds; the landscape got wild with foliage beyond them bushes. There was a beaten path separating the trees, which had already lost most, if not all, of their leaves; roots protruded from the ground in various places; and rocks, old tires, and other cast-away items littered the ground around the spring—he had come very close to severing one of his fingers a few summers ago after unknowingly grabbing a broken coke bottle, which some human had just thrown to the side either before or after getting into the spring. The scar that he had at the base of his index finger was a firm reminder of the events of that day—that broken, jagged-edged coke bottle had really done a number on him and he had sure voiced his pain after the glass sliced through the lower-part of the bone-joint in that finger.

"Mr. Index Finger from my left hand nearly got evicted on that day." he thought after blinking his eyes, then taking in a few, deep breaths. "The palm of Hazaar's right hand was also cut on a piece of thrown away pipe—mom very nearly said that we couldn't go to the spring anymore after he came home with his palm being a bloody mess."

His trip to the hot spring had been a long one; after hearing more than a few cautionary sentences from Bile, he had taken off at nine. At first, his brown wool jacket had been slung over his arm; he had stopped long enough to wrap it around his shoulders before shoving off again. He had tried to teleport to the train yard but, due to his sore physical state, he had only been able to teleport half-way to the train yard; he had been forced to walk the rest of the way.

Each and every step had hurt; each and every movement that he had done, whether it be minor or major, had sent a torrent of pain ricocheting down his body; and, as if to make matters worse, the wind had been blowing. The wind, which had since died down, had been blowing just enough to make his progress go from being slow to slower than a snail—this, coupled with all the other issues that had plagued him, had caused his trip to be longer than usual. In all, it had taken him an hour and five minutes to get to the hot spring; it had taken nearly four minutes to undress. He hadn't even bothered with checking the area, to see if there was anything or anyone around that would want to harm him—just seeing the circle of heated water, that had a cloud of steam above it, had made the word relief completely dominate his mind. Now that he felt some relief of his aches and pains, and now that he was all cozy and content-like against one of the spring's sides, he took in his surroundings.

He looked around—his head and neck, due to being the only things of his to be above the water, took on the appearance of a periscope. When he saw that there was nothing in the neighborhood, animal or otherwise, he returned to being as he had formerly been.

Feeling froggy, he swung his arm up; he made the ground that was underneath his cigarette case shoot up. His cigarette case, a thin, silver-aluminum box, that was four inches long by three and a half inches wide, flew through air for a few seconds before landing in the palm of his hand. The case, which had an etching of a bull deer jumping over a fallen log on its front side, and which had a clasp on the inside that kept the six, black-papered cigarettes from being jostled around, had been purchased three winters ago. The $85 for the thing had been fair; while the thing had been in good condition on the outside it had been bare on the inside. He had been the one to add the red velvet material that lined its interior and he had also been the one to put the clasp in.

After opening the case, then taking a few seconds out to marvel at the material that lined its inside, he took one of the cigarettes out. He put the cigarette in his mouth, then lit it by making a small flame appear on the tip of his left index finger, then took a drag from it before leaning his head back.

"Worth every damn step here," he said to himself. He turned to put his cigarette case down behind him; once that was taken care of, he turned back around then resumed his session at the spring. He lowered himself so that only his head was out of the water. "Bile-O, you missed out on this one. You'd of gotten some relief from your pains, and them sore muscles of yours would of been more than relaxed, if you had come with me."


	26. Chapter 26

As expected, the memorically made photographs, that had come from her Grampa Cheshire's copied memory, had been added to the room that all of the information on her mam and brothers was being put in; she was currently in that room, and before them three photographs now.

Daddy had said that the one in the photographs may be one of her younger brothers; though reluctant to say that he was one of them, he had said that there was a good possibility that he was—there had been no mistaking the excitement that he had been trying to hide from her on the day that he had said this. His "hidden" excitement had rubbed off on her rather well; she had practically been skipping down the halls of the ship in her excitement over the new find that had come up in the search for her missing family. She had also found herself humming a little something while writing in her diary the two days that followed; her diary now had five pages in it that were full of her hopes on the second youth that had been claimed by her mam being her brother. As if the writing of her hopes in her diary wasn't enough, she had also had more than enough dreams on the youth; in these dreams, which were mostly black and white, and which mostly took place on a grassy knoll somewhere, she had run up to give Bile, Lhaklar, and the youth who could be Hazaar a big hug.

Her excitement over this find had come to a stop after the rational side of her brain had clicked in to give its two-cents on what had been found. Her daddy had several mares at home, who had given birth to multiple foals who were near-duplicates of their siblings—her mam, after leaving home, and then possibly succumbing to them urges that adults got, could well of had another son who had come out looking almost identical to Hazaar. Dogs and cats, she knew, could also have back-to-back litters that were nearly identical to the litters that preceded them; with this thought, and the thought on the mares at home having near-duplicate foals, in place, she had stopped being excited. The idea of this new youth being someone else had taken over, which had caused her to feel somewhat blue.

"For all we know, mam might have gone and named him "Hazaar" in honor of my brother who was lost to a plague, or natural disaster, sometime in the past." she thought as she struggled to hold back the tears that wanted to come out. Thinking this was hard; women sometimes did name their subsequent children after the ones who had died before them—either the named-in-honor children would have a II behind their names or they'd just go around with the name given to them. She also knew that, sometimes, people even named their new pets after the ones that had passed away—a friend of hers had done that twice now, so she had that as a good example of this.

The room that she was in was, technically, a spare one; up to their settling on the planet, it hadn't had anything in it. It wasn't very empty now—upon entering the room, she had found herself having to be careful of where she put her feet, and of where her arms went. There were four bookcases in the room; one had memorical stills of her mam, Bile, and Lhaklar on it while another had the latest newspaper articles that revolved around her family on it. Her father was still recording all the program segments that had been done over the weeks on their missing family; these were all on the third bookcase. The fourth bookcase was dominated by the photographs of the two, unknown youths. Along with the four bookcases, which were sitting in the room's center, back-to-back to one another, there were a series of shelves situated all around the room that contained old photographs of her and her daddy with her mam and brothers. There were a few things hanging from the ceiling as well—mostly, just red and medium purple banners, that had all sorts of silver charms hanging from them. Her father, soon after putting the banners up, had called them "Good Luck Charms"; no one disputed their cause or spoke negatively about them. Everyone just accepted that they were there as a sort of spiritual aid to their finding and then capturing her mam and brothers.

"Daddy said that this was a free-entrance room—anyone and everyone can come and go as they please, which includes me." she thought as she tried to look away from the three photographs that her eyes were glued to.

As a way to get her attention from the photographs, she thought of what had been going on in camp for the last near-two weeks. She latched onto the phone situation first—the phones in the ship, for the last week and a half, had been going off the hook almost constantly; reporters from just about everywhere imaginable had been calling to ask their questions on how everyone in camp was and on if anything, or anyone, was being found or seen. Her father, without fail, would say no comment on the latter question; he'd be vague on the former question that the reporters asked.

As far as she knew, her father had asked the others in their family to keep their mouths shut on what was going on in camp and on what was being seen; so far as she knew, his wishes were being honored. It had been a week and three days since the last article on her missing relatives had been written and published; the one that she had looked at before going to look at the memorically taken photographs of the new youngster in question had been written by one named Kronatuun Agoti. This man, who had had quite a lot of nerve, had asked her father a bunch of questions about Hazaar; after getting no answers to his many questions he went and called her grandfather, who had accidentally let it out on what had been seen on the twentieth of September. As expected, Mr. Agoti had taken all of what her grandfather had said, had added a bunch of already known material to it to give the written article a little more length, then had published it—Granddaddy Duru had been most apologetic after seeing that article in the paper, then in getting a call from her father, who hadn't been happy on his spilling the beans on what had been experienced on September 20.

"Dad saw Bile and Lhaklar on the twentieth of September while I haven't seen anything of them since the latter part of August." she thought. "With all the activity that's been going on in camp, and with their being seen in places that're a distance from here, I think they've been scared off from coming anywhere near here."

She had said this to her grandmother that morning, after breakfast was finished and everyone was getting ready to leave the table; the woman, who she regarded with so much respect, had said for her to not be ridiculous. _Knowing their mother as well as I do, I think they've been forced to lie low until their injuries heal_ , was what her gramma had said when the subject was brought up. Grampa Cheshire had been fast in agreeing with this while her father had had something else to say on the subject— _if they had been scared off, or if their mother truly thought of us as the enemy, they wouldn't be seen anywhere in this state_ , was what he had said. A sort of lecture had been spun about how protective women were of their children, and of how protective her mam was of her young, before the call for everyone to head off to do what they wish was done.

The adults were doing their best to keep the younger kids' spirits up, and they were doing their best in keeping busy so the stay here wouldn't seem so long—she secretly wondered what they'd do if the stay went on to be more than a one to two month one; she bet the adults would be up to their necks in home-wary kids, and with their own stresses in missing their homes, then. Really, all they were doing was sitting and waiting for another sighting to happen; she wanted the wait to be over with—not only did she want to see her mam, and brothers, but she also wanted them to be returned home, where they should of been in the first place.

With there being nothing found from when her father had sent the Goblins into Park, Sheridan, Hot Springs/Washakie, and Johnson counties, she had begun to wonder if her mother and brothers even lived in the state of Wyoming—surely something would of been seen of them during all them searches; mam had obviously spun a lie to throw them off course, which it had temporarily done. The wonder on whether her mam and brothers lived the nomadic lifestyle, where one lived in one place for a short amount of time before moving on to the next and then the next and so forth, had also been thought of before being cast to the side—no campsites, where one had lived for a few days to a week or two, had been found anywhere, and the human that Homsi and Eldass had "interrogated" nearly two weeks ago had said that her mam had a job, so that couldn't be it on why they weren't being found or seen.

Eshal sighed, then turned away from the bookcase that had the newly placed photographs on it; she was on her way to exiting the room when her father came in. Since her head was down, and since he came in so quietly, she neither noticed or heard him after he came in—it was very non-surprising to her that she walked right into him.

"Being your father, I'm a bit suspicious of your depression-laced exit." her father said after pushing her back from him. "What's up, Eshie?"

"Nothing," Eshal was quick to answer.

"What're you doing in here?" her father asked.

"Other than looking at them new pictures that you put on the bookcase, nothing."

"Interesting fellow, isn't he?" her father asked. At the moment, she wasn't aware of the "carefully" laid trap that he had set before her.

"Yes, looks similar to Hazaar." she said as she unknowingly stepped into the trap. "Been wondering if he's someone other than Hazaar for the last few days."

"While I'm not one hundred percent sure that he's your brother I do have a feeling that he is—you're mother's a marvelous woman... I believe that she was able to keep Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar alive." her father said as he went to the photographs that she had just spoken of.

"How can you speak so sure of this?" Eshal asked. She gave the back of the man who had sired her a good, inquiring look before stepping towards him; a sort of concern had fallen over her that, she feared, was about to be exposed. Before she could stop this concern from bubbling to the surface, her mouth opened and it was blurted. "I don't want you to look like a fool, daddy—what if that guy in them pictures isn't Hazaar. What if he's someone else... a son from—"

"Me thinks you've been overhearing conversation between me and Cyla," her father said as he turned to look at her. "That or you've been hanging around her too much—that woman hasn't been looking at things in my perspective, Eshal. She looks at this photograph here—" he gestured at the facial photograph of the youth who had been seen nearly two weeks ago. "—and she says that he isn't who I think he is without connecting the dots on the similarities. Look at your grandmother... your aunt Qeeta... and good, ol', granddaddy Cheshire—all of them are sticking firm to this fellow being Hazaar, and I'm very near to believing that he is. What does all of that say to you, Eshal? Does that say that this is Hazaar or still an unknown?"

"Dad, I've looked at this photograph, and at the one of Hazaar from when he was a baby, numerous times. Yes, they look alike, but what if that—" Eshal pointed at the memorically taken photograph that her father had just gestured at. "—isn't Hazaar? I don't want you to be hurt anymore... I don't want to see you hurting anymore. If that—"

"If the one in that photograph is who I think he is, there will be pain—a happy pain, sweetheart. One that's based off finding that there's more than just two of your brothers being alive and well." her father said.

"Again, daddy, what if he isn't?"

"When was the last time you went out on the town?"

And, like that, all conversation on the issue of who the Hazaar-like youth could or could not be was dropped; once her father said that sentence, then reached into his green striped tuxedo jacket, that had a single tail on the back that went down to just below his knees, all she could think about was shopping. She knew that he was about to give her some money to shop with, and she knew that this was a way to get her to not think of the issue that revolved around the second unknown youth, but... but when the issue of spending money on only interests that she cared for in a mall of some sort came about she was blank to just about anything else that happened around her.

She was a typical, mid-teenage girl; one who loved her daddy like crazy, and who gave him more than enough respect and love that a daughter should give to the man who was half-responsible for her creation, and one who loved to shop, and listen to music, and do the gossiping that the boys just rolled their eyes at, and, especially, dream about the newest dream-boat who came out on the music or movie scene.

Whenever she was given the opportunity to "go out on the town", she was usually given two, one hundred dollar bills; while she was told to have her friends' parents with her whenever she shopped, or accept the escorts that he asked to accompany her while she was out shopping, she was happy to know that she had a father who trusted her enough to not throw the money that he gave to her on just plain junk. Daddy never asked her what she bought, or about how much was left over of what he had given her, and he never got on her for what she brought home from her shopping trips; he was as respectful as could be towards her and she loved him dearly for that.

The brown leather checkbook was taken out from her father's jacket; this book, which contained anywhere between two to five twenty, fifty, and one hundred dollar bills, was opened. When was the last time that she had gone out on the town? When was the last time where she had been allowed to spend the money that she had been trusted to have on things that'd make her stresses go away? When was the last time that she had gone out to get away from things? The answer to them questions was two months ago—her father had given her $125 just before giving her the gentle boot in the rear. A little joke of _don't you return unless you've got bags and are penny-broke_ had been said right after he had given her that gentle boot in the behind. Instead of being given the usual $200, or the $125 that she had been given to use on her last-done shopping excursion, she was surprised in finding twice that being placed in the palm of her hand, which she had blindly stuck out after hearing the words _when was the last time you went out on the town_.

She slowly counted what she was given right after it was placed in her hand; along with the usual $200, which consisted of fifty and twenty dollar bills, she had also been given an addition $50. Her father was in the process of closing his checkbook when he suddenly jerked—the book was re-opened, the contents that were in it were swiftly sifted, then another $50 was removed. That was also placed to her palm.

A whopping $300—all hers to spend on herself... on no one else but herself. Eshal, who couldn't contain her excitement any longer, jumped then wrapped her arms around her father. She hugged him for all of ten seconds before charging from the room; her father, soon after she left him all by his lonesome, shook his head. He gave two chuckles before turning to look at the room's contents.

"Ah, the happiness that comes from a teenage girl after you've given her shopping money." he jumped ten seconds later; upon turning around, he saw that his stepfather, Cheshire, was standing in the room's doorway.

"I can imagine it being less exciting when a father gives shopping money to a son." TazirVile said.

"Any child acts excited when it comes to a little monetary spoiling," Cheshire, who had just gotten through doing as his stepson had done in giving Blaiga some money to blow, said. "But, yes, male teenagers don't act as excited as female teenagers do after being given some money to spend on stuff that they and only they have an interest in." there was a pause before he said more. "Grown women seem to retain the excitement that they exhibited as teenagers after receiving money to shop with."

"I do miss seeing the light that came to Angel's eyes whenever I gave her some money to spend." TazirVile sighed. "Can't wait to see it again."

"As you've said so many times, it's only a matter of time." Cheshire said.

TazirVile smiled, then slapped his stepfather on the shoulder, then took in the room's contents for a few minutes before leaving; while his stepfather left the room at the same time as he, they went their separate ways after moving past the door. Cheshire didn't go far from the room before stopping; after getting a text from his wife, who had taken it upon herself to be Eshal's, and Blaiga's, shopping escort, he decided to go on in seeing what that day's output on the mines were. TazirVile went towards the ship's Meeting Room; he had just gotten to the hallway that the room was on, and was about to hurry his progress along, when the drive to get some fresh air took a-hold of him—instead of going into the room where business-type things were done in, then doing nothing more than staring at its various screens and instruments, and at the board-map that was on one of the walls, he went towards his bedroom chamber. The black wool overcoat was removed from the chamber's closet, then placed around him; though not wanting to pay but so much attention to it, he did the buttons that were on the coat well then he drew the belt in tight—it was cold out, and the women would scream if they saw him step out from his ship "in-appropriately" attired for the temperature.

"Cyla would about pop a tit after seeing me step out without my coat being fully buttoned, or without the belt being drawn in so tight that I couldn't breathe." he thought after putting his coat on.

Most of the women in camp, Cyla and Irka especially, thought of him as weak when, in reality, he wasn't. He could take temperatures that were far under what it currently was outside, and he could take temperatures that were far over eighty-eighty degrees—during his conquests, he ran around shirtless; it didn't matter if the area where the battle was taking place in was covered in snow or was as bleak as a desert, when he conquered, he preferred to do so while lacking the items that'd usually cover his top half.

As he walked across camp, going towards his grandfather's ship, where it looked like most of the area's men were congregating, he thought about all of the degrading remarks that his family had issued to him after Angel and the boys had disappeared. His father, and Kuruk, had been among the ones who had done a minor session on trying to knock his confidence, and pride, down while Cyla and Irka had been among the ones who were trying to knock him down to what he was before Angel had been discovered as being his wife. He had come close to slapping both on more than one occasion; if not for his father, and brother, being around, and if he hadn't been holding himself back from doing so, he would of done it—with all that had come from their mouths, they really should of been given a slap or two. His grandfather and sisters didn't degrade him and neither did his stepfather and mother; he didn't know if Trobrencus and his family talked bad of him or not and, really, he didn't care. With his gaining Angel as a wife, and then having his secret in being able to do Elemental powers be exposed, he had gotten a confidence that he hadn't had before. Sure, he had been confident before them two things had come into his life but, with everyone talking him down, degrading and insulting him, his self-esteem had really been low. He had gone to the Universal Gods three times in his life—one time after the depression from his family's ill-talk of him had caused him to nearly plunge his sword into his chest; another time after the depression from their ill-talk had caused him to drink himself nearly to death; and the final time to find out who his wife was truly meant to be with—and they had helped him in keeping his head on straight and on walking that straight line. With Angel, and some of their children, now being known to be alive, and with their location being somewhat known, he believed that they were still helping him.

TazirVile looked at the sky; thanks to his goggled glasses, his sensitive eyes were shielded from the hazy, milky-yellow ball that was raining its rays of light down on the side of the planet that he was on. As he looked at the sky he thanked the Universal Gods for all that they had done for him and for all that had yet to happen in his life; after doing this, he went to join the men who were milling around his grandfather's ship.

"Ewww! Gross—the last thing I wanted to see was your naked ass!" Hazaar exclaimed right when his father joined around half of the men that were stationed in the area where his camp was in.

"Hazaar! What are you doing here?" Lhaklar demanded. He had finished his soak in the hot spring; his brother had just teleported in when he was getting out of the water.

He had spent all of an hour just sitting in the naturally warm water of the spring; thoughts of what all he had done that year, and then thoughts of what he wanted to do later on that year, had come to him all while he had been smoking and relaxing in the water. Only after seeing the state of the bandaging that was on his arm, and the fact that his hands had taken on the appearance of raisins, had he decided to get up and then start the task of collecting his clothes and then heading home.

He had smoked four cigarettes—a rarity for him—, and he had hummed for around fifteen or twenty minutes of his stay; after them fifteen to twenty minutes of humming had ended he had simply sat in silence. The spring's naturally warm water had done its trick in helping his sore body, and it had done its job in taking his stresses away, during his time in it; now that he was out of the water, his aches and pains were returning—and some with a nasty vengeance! If not for his brother's surprise appearance, he would of let the pain have him; he would of jumped back into the spring and then spent another twenty minutes to half an hour of soaking before trying to leave again. Since Hazaar was here, and since he had no desire of being picked on for being "weak", he swallowed his pains; he went to his clothes, then slowly put them on, then got his mind centered on the trek home.

As if his younger brother appearing without warning, and his body's aches and pains returning, wasn't bad enough, the wind had suddenly picked up; he shivered almost violently after the first breeze caught against him. The cold, and his shivering, only made his pains feel worse.

"You need to come home now!" Hazaar said frantically. "Momma called, she asked to talk to you and—"

"You didn't!" the belt that he was fastening around himself, and the shoes that he was trying to tie, stopped being worked on; he was gripped in something else right then and there—fear!

"Lazeer was on the phone—he was stuttering and stammering... it just popped out." Hazaar said. "Mom's livid! She said that she's coming home now—she'll be home in fifteen minutes!"

"Shit! Shitshitshit!" Lhaklar exclaimed. He forced himself to forget his pains; his shoes were quickly tied, the buckle of his belt was snapped in place, and his shirt was hastily buttoned. He was just reaching for the items that had fallen from his pant pockets when his brother started laughing.

"You are so gullible!" Hazaar screamed. "Momma called—we said that you was sleeping."

"You wet end!" Lhaklar lunged, then grabbed his brother; though pained, he was sure in giving his brother the noogie that he thought he deserved.

"Mine's dry—you're the one with the wet butt." Hazaar said after shoving his brother away from him.

Hazaar limped off to about five feet from his brother before stopping; with himself at a more safer distance, he threw his head up then shook it. Lhaklar was fast in scowling at his brother; the twerp had gotten him all worked up—had given him a bloody damn heart attack—and yet here he was, more concerned about his hair, which hadn't been touched by his hands, than in offering an apology for making him use the body that he possessed that was oh so tired and and sore. After scowling, he bent down to retrieve the items that had fallen from his pants pockets; his wallet was picked up, then checked as a precaution—for all he knew, the wind might of gotten into the thing and then blown the contents to some unknown location. After taking his wallet up, then checking it, then putting it in its appointed pocket, he took his house keys up. He was in the process of going towards his cigarette case, which was near the edge of the spring, when Hazaar limp-rushed forward.

Every movement of his hurt, and he was in double-pain now thanks to the bandaging on his burned arm not being as sturdy as it use to be—the water had soaked all the way through; his arm was now, basically, exposed to the elements. With himself being back to being in that slower than a snail pace again, he had no option of grabbing the silver-aluminum case before his brother did.

"Give me my cigarette case, Hazaar." Lhaklar said after his brother walked off with his case.

"Say that I'm the best little brother that you have, and that you will ever have, and I might just give it to you." Hazaar said. After saying this, he opened the case that he had taken up; one of the two cigarettes was removed, then put in his mouth, then lit. "Sans one cigarette, that is."

"Hazaar, that cost me eighty-five dollars. That is my property—give it over." Lhaklar did the best that he could in ignoring the pain that was shooting all throughout his arm and body as he walked forward; Hazaar was fast in stepping out of his way.

"Say it." Hazaar snapped the cigarette case shut; he continued to smoke the cigarette. "Say that I'm the most best little brother that—"

"Give me my damn cigarette case!" Lhaklar lunged; he managed to grab his brother by his arm, but, before he could grab his cigarette case, Hazaar tossed it to his other hand. "I'm serious, Hazaar! Give me my case. I'd like to go home and rest."

"I'll give it to you after you say what I want you to say." Hazaar said. The cigarette did as any other lit cigarette would do—it went up and down as its smoker spoke.

"I'll never say it—you're the worst little brother one could have!" Lhaklar shot as he reached for his cigarette case; Hazaar reacted by swinging his hand at him. Though not meaning to, he hit his brother on the arm that was burned.

"Dammit, Hazaar!" Lhaklar exclaimed as he turned around. He cradled his burned arm, which was throbbing in new pain, to his chest. While holding his injured limb to himself, he said, "You really _are_ the worst brother in the Universe! That hurt— _look_ at _my_ arm!"

"Sorry, I forgot." Hazaar said. He gave Lhaklar his cigarette case then stepped back; Lhaklar was fast in both snatching the case from him and in walking away. "Lhaklar... I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

Homsi looked at what was going on before him in shock; he and his co-workers had just reached the spring... they had taken the long way, had done some talking, and had taken the lack of scenery in, before finally reaching the spot that they were earning to go to. None of them had any words to describe what they were seeing—to literally get here, then notice that two of their employer's sons were in the area... it seemed like they had won more than the big-time lottery that the humans went crazy over after it reached over a hundred million dollars. None of them had expected to come upon the two kids and none of them had expected for one of the two of them to call the other the name that had been given to their employer's secondborn son.

His mother had always told him that cold air, and weather, did one wonders; he believed her. The walk had given him some clean, clear air to breathe; his lungs had always been in good shape but, at the moment, they felt as if they were in better shape. He wasn't sure but he thought that Eldass and Zshon felt the same way—Eldass had sure gotten a kick in his step and Zshon was acting as if he was in his young, early thousands. There was no way to describe how Losal was acting. He and his co-workers had shown up just after the one kid, who they had heard Lhaklar call Hazaar four times, had taken something shiny up from the ground; Lhaklar had been all excited after that had happened, so they figured that the thing that the second kid had taken up had belonged to him.

Eldass had his cellular out; Homsi was worried that the noise from it being used would alarm the two that they were watching but, after noticing that his co-worker had set his cellular settings to vibrate instead of ring, he let that worry dissipate. As Eldass typed a message on his phone, he looked over his shoulder; he couldn't be more agreeing to who was about to be texted and he couldn't be more agreeing to what was about to be sent to him.

"Several of us are at the area's hot spring—Lhaklar and HAZAAR are here. Lhaklar looks injured; HAZAAR is limping. Waiting on instructions on what to do."

Zshon looked at the two kids that were walking about the grounds of the hot spring; he was quick in making some observations and he was also quick in determining that the two of them had more than minor injuries to them. Both were in pain, that was quite obvious by their actions—the older of the two, Lhaklar, looked to be in the most pain while the younger boy looked to experiencing a little less pain that he.

Lhaklar was holding his left arm against his chest; it looked to be heavily bandaged and it also looked like that bandaging was wet and was coming undone in more than four places. He was able to see that there were parts on the youngster's arm that were discolored thanks to his notation of the areas where the bandaging was coming undone on. The one that Lhaklar had unknowingly confirmed as their employer's secondborn son, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, was walking around with a very pronounced limp; it looked like there was something up with his right leg and it also looked like he was grimacing with each step that he took.

Zshon felt for the two; he had gotten plenty of bad injuries in his life—some which had hindered him from the normal range of movements, such as lifting his arms and legs or turning his head. One time, when he had been a student at Staffer's Academy, he had been forced to rely on his father to carry him from the field where the school's cricket games were frequently played on; he had sustained a compound fracture to both of his legs, which had hindered him from leaving the field on his own. His playmates had refused to help him—the sight of his blood had caused them to grow queasy—and the two coaches from both teams had been too far away to help him. It had either been he lie there, screaming in agony over his legs being broken, and over his femur and fibula being outside of his body, or allow his father to take on the chore in taking him from the field. It had taken him nearly six months before being able to walk on his own, and without crutches, or braces; he had never played cricket again after that accident happened. The event of his losing his arm, and nearly losing his ear and the parts that allowed him to propagate, was another one where his movements had been very restricted—he put a stop to thinking of this event; it was a horrible one and he didn't want to remember it.

A slight buzzing sound made him turn towards his father; his father had just gotten a reply from their employer. Zshon looked at Lhaklar and Hazaar; he sighed after seeing that they hadn't heard the buzzing sound that had come from his father's cellular—his heart had come close to stopping after that sound had happened... thoughts of the two kids hearing it, then running off after noticing that they weren't alone, had been thought for only a second before being discarded. Luckily, for both him, his co-workers, and their employer, the kids hadn't heard the buzzing sound. They were still in the area.

"Lhaklar, I'm really, really sorry." Hazaar said again. His brother was walking around in circles; he was doing his best in following him. "I didn't mean it... I forgot—"

"Your forgetting is going to hurt you one day!" Lhaklar said sharply. "Get away from me."

"Brother, if it'll make you feel any better, give me a kick in the leg. Do that karma thing on me—I hurt you, you hurt me." Hazaar started to plead. He stopped, then stretched his hand towards his brother, who had since stopped in going around the area. He placed his hand on his shoulder gently before speaking again. "Lhaklar..."

It was tempting; even though he was in extreme pain, he could well do as his brother had said for him to do. His leg _could_ be kicked up, and his little brother _could_ receive a good kick to the leg that was bothering him.

Hazaar still had the cigarette that he had taken from his cigarette case; it was held between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. It was burning out because he wasn't smoking it—he had taken just two puffs from it before going on to chasing after him. He felt anger over that as well; he much preferred for his brothers to keep their fingers from his stuff and he also preferred for his brothers to ask before taking a cigarette from him.

Lhaklar did one more circle around the area before stopping and then turning around; Hazaar stood before him—he stood, looking just as ready as could be to accept the pain that'd happen after he delivered the asked-for kick to the limb that he had that was injured. Though halfway willing to give out a little payback pain, he decided to not do it; he sighed, then shook his head, then dropped to his butt. Just the act of sitting down hurt—he groaned, shivered a few dozen times, then went still and quiet. Hazaar looked at him for a few seconds before sitting down beside him. He held the cigarette out for him to take; he responded by shaking his head.

"Smoke it—it's yours." Lhaklar said. "There's another in the case, and I have another pack in my stash, so you're fine. Just ask me next time."

"Sure, thanks." Hazaar said. He went back to smoking the cigarette; after taking a puff, then blowing the smoke out, he said, "I ever tell you that you have good tastes in cigarettes? This has a very rich, sweet flavor to it."

"Indonesian tobacco—better than the stuff that's put in Winston and the Basics." Lhaklar replied.

"You ever try Newport?" Hazaar asked.

"No,"

"Good, stay away from it. One of the nastiest tasting cigarettes I've ever smoked." Hazaar said, then emphasized, "Near turned my mouth inside out on one smoke."

"Didn't know you've smoked other brands." Lhaklar said.

"Smoked four—yours is the best." Hazaar said.

"How was you able to get the smokes?" Lhaklar asked, he was curious.

"I don't just use the allowance that momma gives me each month on candy and games—I have a guy who buys me a pack of whatever he says is good. Pay him $15 on the day that our allowances are given over—he buys me enough to last two weeks." Hazaar explained. "I do the purchasing of my magazines."  
"Magazines? What kind?" Lhaklar asked.

Homsi watched as the younger of the two kids got to his feet; even from his distance, he could see what he was wearing very well. The pair of dark brown pants had faded knees, and a few splotches of red and white paint on their sides; the red shirt looked very normal, there were no pockets or anything on it; the jean jacket that was worn over the shirt wasn't buttoned, it looked like there were a few areas that needed patching on the arms and hems. The shoes that were on the kid's feet were brown; it looked like there were light brown ties on them.

When the kid finished getting to his feet, he reached down; he untucked his shirt, then bent down to retrieve the item that had fallen out. He didn't need to be told what it was that had fallen from the just-untucked shirt—instinct alone told him that it was a magazine of some sort. He watched the happenings that were going on in the area where the hot spring was for a few more seconds before deciding to go for the pair of binoculars that were on his person; the small, fold-in type of binoculars, that were a light gray color, were taken from the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket then placed to his face. He adjusted the focus only once then went to work in getting a little better view of the youngster that was with his employer's oldest-born son.

He focused on the youth's hair first; to him, it looked like the kid was either not very savvy in keeping himself very clean and organized or, judging by how sore Lhaklar was, and by his knowing that the kid had been involved in the altercation that had happened in Sweeney Ranch nearly two weeks ago, he hadn't been able to tend his hair because of some cause which had hindered him from doing so. The tail of deep purple hair, which stuck out from the nape of the back of the kid's head, was a knotted up mess—he wasn't able to note if it was clean or not. After looking at the kid's hair, which proved to be more than a good convincing aid to him on who he was looking at, he turned his attention to what the kid had in his hand.

"With his being seventeen hundred years old, it's not surprising that he has an interest in reading pornographic material." he thought after taking in the magazine, which had a red cover, that had a woman, who was half-clad in a towel, and who looked to have Asiatic features, on it. Before lowering his binoculars, he saw the magazine's name—the name Playboy was printed in loud, italic, dark red letters.

He was able to see that the youngster had a cigarette clamped between his lips just before the pair of binoculars were lowered—that made for three of his employer's sons being smokers, he thought. Just seeing this caused him to feel both pity, concern, and frustration; like with Bile and Lhaklar, this youngster's lungs weren't fully developed to handle cigarette smoke. At his age, he should not be smoking.

"There..." Eldass said in a low voice. He pointed to the north; a few trees, and a bunch of skeletal, or near-skeletal, bushes was what he was pointing at. "Master Tazir's in position."

"Do you see anyone else?" Homsi asked.

"Uuuuhhh..."

"Trobrencus and Kuruk," Zshon said. "Think I see Triskull and Cheshire with him as well."

"Coming at them from all sides," Eldass said. "Think they can teleport?"

Lhaklar was fast in detecting the change that had come to the area's atmosphere—it had gotten stale... and heavy. The message, for him, was quite clear—someone, or something, had come into the area; something was about to happen and neither he nor his little brother wanted any involvement in it. With the change in atmosphere being noted, and with the hidden message being received and then read, he got to his feet; he tapped Hazaar on the shoulder then told him that it was time to go. Hazaar was quick in getting to his feet; the magazine that the two of them had been looking at was swiftly returned to his shirt, which was then half-tucked into his pants.

The magazine that they had been looking at was one of the oldest pornographic magazines on the planet; Hugh Hefner was the one behind its publication—the magazine, which had started being run on October 1, 1953, had been retained by Hefner right up into his late-nineties before being given over to his youngest son, Cooper. The magazine was still being run, and it was still popular; it was still owned by the Hefner family to that day.

Hazaar had just gotten through tucking the left side of his shirt in when his brother tried to teleport; he disappeared for only a second before reappearing. Teleportation, they had been taught at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, worked only when the physical body was in full health—with his still being very sore, and with his body still having injuries on it, he couldn't teleport. Hazaar limped forward heavily, then placed his hand on his brothers arm, then tried to teleport; he and his brother slowly dissipated, they stayed invisible for only four seconds before reappearing.

Lhaklar was fast in turning on his brother; he shoved him hard then started shouting at him.

"You idiot! You used up the only time that you could teleport on just play!" Lhaklar exclaimed.

"I came here to give you another face to look at other than your own." Hazaar returned as he struggled to his feet. Soon after getting to his feet, he rushed at, and then pushed, his brother; Lhaklar fell back at once. His head just barely missed the rocky edge of the hot spring. "I was bored—there was nothing to do at the apartment, so I decided to come here and see if you and I could hang out. Bile went upstairs to his and your room and L—"

"You was bored and decided to come here and bust my loins." Lhaklar snapped. "Thanks for the shove—I'll be a few minutes in getting up so that'll give you a few minute head-start in running to get away from me."

"Why the hell would I want to run away from you? One of them girls you hang out with give you a bad case of STDs that can be passed onto—"

"Dude I have contracted no sexually transmitted diseases and am not contagious." Lhaklar said. It took him a near full minute to get to his feet; when he was on his feet, he lunged for Hazaar. He gave him another noogie after grabbing him. "You do though."

"Man lemme go!" Hazaar wrestled free of his brother; he took two steps from him before turning around. "You're pathetic sometimes, you know that?"

"So is your face."

"The babes dig my face, they run at yours."

"Really, then why do I have them flocking to my corner every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday?" Lhaklar winked his left eye.

"Thanks for admitting what you really do at your job." Hazaar said. "Man-whore."

"Shut up." Lhaklar said. Despite saying this strongly, he was laughing.

"Never—I don't shut up, I grow up then, when I look at you, I throw up." Hazaar said.

"And then Bile comes around the corner and licks it up." Lhaklar said before the burst of laughter left him.

Homsi watched as his employer stepped out from his hiding place; Kuruk, Trobrencus, and Cheshire made their presence known just before he, Eldass, Losal, and Zshon stepped out from the bushes that were keeping them hidden. Triskull was the last one to make himself known to the two boys; Homsi saw that he was carrying a type of gun on his person—Kuruk, the man's father, looked to have a sort of restraining pole or tool on him. The two boys, the Goblin was quick in noting, had gone sober right after seeing everyone stepping out from their hiding places; the two of them looked at each other for only a second before taking on a fighting stance.

Lhaklar used the remainder of his transformative powers soon after he saw his father walking towards him and his brother; Homsi issued a verbal threat for everyone to watch it after seeing the green glow that wrapped around the youngster. The energized breeze caused Hazaar to take two steps from him; the boy looked at his brother for the entire duration of his form's change before turning to look at the ones who were advancing towards him.

In the ten seconds that Lhaklar had taken to change forms, he had latched onto the idea of becoming a lion—after his transformation was complete, he stepped forward as an immature, mint-green lion. The mane that he had was sparse, and pine-green in color; the claws that came out from each of his paws were also a pine-green color, and so was the small tuft of hair that was on the end of his tail.

Hazaar directed a green energy sphere at Homsi, who was fast in ducking to avoid the attack, then he sent a weak lightning bolt towards Eldass. The lightning bolt had only just missed its target when he started making the ground under the four Goblins rolls; three of the four Goblins had just lost their balance when he felt something prick him on the neck.

 _"Hazaar!"_ Lhaklar exclaimed after his brother took one, stiff, and quite awkward, step to the side.

Even though his vision was blurry, and his coordination bad, he continued with sending attacks at the men who were surrounding him and his brother. He threw out five, purple-colored energy spheres then he swung his fist down; the ground around him erupted up then was swept to the sides right after his fist collided with it. Pebbles, and medium-sized rocks, and lots of dirt, rose into the air for only a second before raining down on the ones that were in his near-immediate vicinity.

Homsi heard a ringing sound coming from his right ear after a medium-sized rock hit him; a slew of pebbles fell on Zshon's head and shoulders—Mr. Zultoa, the oldest son of Eldass J. Zultoa, made a horrible mistake by tilting his head up to look at what was falling on him. When a decently sized rock slammed home into his left eye, he yelled then fell back—the sensation of having his eye assaulted by something other than a fist was bad while the burning sensation, that had only come from the dirt and pebble pieces finding their way into his eye, was worse; he let the others take care of the capture after his eye was rock-assaulted.

With one of the four Goblins backing down, and with the other three looking to be only half-there, he concentrated his strengths on the big, burly man who was to his immediate left; he sent a weak, red lightning bolt at him, then a few red, orange, green, and black energy discs, before feeling his legs give out from under him. When he fell to the ground, he did so hard; he bounced once after falling then, with the last of his fastly dwindling energy reserves, lifted his head up—for fifteen seconds now, he, the thirdborn son of Angel Irene, who was so revered by the planet's people, had been fighting the fatigue that seemed to want to take him down. After shaking his head, then getting halfway to his knees, he sent another attack out to the big, burly man—who, thanks to his mood, he wasn't able to the remember the name of. He had only just sent this attack out when the last of his energy reserves were zapped of their low-fuel; he dropped to his side then fell into a troubled sleep right when his brother's lion-formed body was positioned over him.

"Alright bastards! I'm slow but I'm game to what all you have ready for me." Lhaklar thought after positioning himself over his brother, who was sleeping soundly on his side.

The roar that came out of him was immature, yes, but its point was received very well by the ones around him; he dared the men around him to come forward and he dared them to try to lay hand on his brother's defenseless body and, furthermore, he dared them to tangle with him. One of the eight remaining men took that dare; his father walked forward, then drew his arm back, then threw a punch in his direction. The glob of green acid landed on his shoulder; it was there for only a second before exploding. Lhaklar was met with not only the pain that he had been feeling before but also the pain from the new injury that he had just received for only a second before turning his attention back to his father, who looked to be gearing up to do a repeat of his previous action.

He gathered himself up as best he could then leaped forward; he barely missed the next green acid glob that his father had sent his way. When he was within a foot of his father, he rose up on his hind legs; the swipe that he delivered with his left foreleg caused a long, deep cut to appear on his father's right arm while the swipe that he dished with his right foreleg very barely missed striking his father's chest. His father had just taken a step back, and had just swung his fist as him, when his jaws settled around his wrist; he bit down hard enough to break bone—his father's green-colored blood oozed from between his jaws for only a second before he was forced to relinquish his hold.

The only reason behind his releasing his hold on his father's wrist was because of his uncle; Uncle Kuruk was going for Hazaar, who he had foolishly left behind. He turned back towards the body of his brother, then ran as fast as he could towards him, then gathered himself to leap; even though his right shoulder was causing him considerable agony, and his ravaged left arm was causing him to want to stop the defense of both himself and his brother, he pushed on—he could moan and groan about the pain later. Right now, he needed to look after both himself and his brother.

When he was within three feet of his uncle he roared; the leap, which was a small one by any standards, caused him to still land on the target that he wanted to be on. Once he was on his uncle's back, he began to tear into him with both his claws and his teeth—he had just opened a few, deep cuts to the man's backside when the man, with one, clear, upthrust of his body, threw him from him.

"Dad!" Triskull yelled.

After gaining to his feet again, Lhaklar turned on the man who was running towards him; the man, who he knew was his mother's uncle, had very dark blue skin. He stood about six foot, two and a half inches tall; he had a lean body, that looked to have decent muscle on the chest, arms, shoulders, and back; and he had the same colored eyes that Master Vile possessed—a glowing yellow color. The pupils that were in their centers were even the same as Master Vile's—tiny and black. Judging by the man's eyes, which looked of the non-experienced and intelligenced type, he guessed that he hadn't done or seen much in his life. The man had a triangular-shaped head from which two, elongated ears were on; these ears ran the full length of his shoulders, they were the same color as the rest of the man but they possessed a single, dingy white skull on their ends. When the man's mouth opened after twitching, he saw that he had sharp, white teeth. The two, ringed horns that were on the man's head were gray in color; they swept back gracefully—which seemed funny, seeing as the one who owned them didn't look to have a single bit of gracefulness to himself.

The man was wearing a blue jean jacket, that had spikes on its shoulders and wrists; there was a collar around his neck from which a chain ran down from—this chain attached to the dark brown belt that was worn around the waist of the man's pants, which were a medium-blue color, and which were ripped in several places.

There was a pair of wings on the man's back; the inside of the wings was red and was torn in more than two places—either they were a dress-like adornment of some kind or, if the man had been born with them, they had been rendered from being able to be used. He got the personal, silent perception on their being both of the latter and not of the latter—for all he knew, they might of looked like this from the moment their wearer was born. The spikes that were on the man's ankle and wrist guards were long, silver in color, and sharp looking; he made a mental note to stay far from them.

The man had a gun with him; along with having a triangular-shaped muzzle it was also big and wide on the back-end. Lhaklar, who felt no desire in having that gun being used on him, slashed at it the second he was able to; the gun went one way while a spurt of blood went in another. With the gun out of the way, he lunged at the man; once near the man, he rose on his back legs then started swinging his forelegs. He intended to give the man a few more scars to go with the ones that he already had—along with the scar that was going across his left eye, the man also had a scar going around his neck and a series of scars that crisscrossed over his chest; whether these came from battle, or the man had been born with them, he didn't know and, really, he didn't care to know their origins either.

He had just landed on the man, and had just snapped his jaws on his shoulder, when something pricked him on the neck; he looked at the man, and the man looked at him, for a few seconds before the urge to drop to all fours came to him.

"Let him be now—let the sleeper dart take hold of him before you head in!" he heard his father say.

He stumbled around for two, complete circles before dropping to his side; he was no longer on his side before getting up again—no sooner had this feat of his been done before he found himself collapsing again.

He saw the zombie-man, TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit was his name, take one step forward; the man put a stop to his advance after taking that single step then crossed his arms. He, again, struggled to his feet; two more collapsings were done before his lion-form was dropped. He walked around in a semi-circle for a few more seconds before going towards his younger brother, who he was only barely able to see—his vision, for some reason, was very blurry. He was very sleepy and he didn't know the reason for why either—at a time like this, he should be awake and energized, not clogged with fatigue.

He fell at his younger brother's side, then wrapped his arm around him, then felt his eyelids slide down. He went into a troubled sleep just as his father gave the word for Homsi, Eldass, and Losal to step forward.

"Thank the Gods!"

After thinking this, Cheshire walked over to TazirVile's side; Triskull gave his head and shoulders a good shaking before heading over to where his father was—the wave of unease that had settled over him after Lhaklar had jumped on him had nearly suffocated him; he was glad to be rid of it. KurukVile took a deep breath in, then flexed his muscles, then looked at the three Goblins, who had since rolled Lhaklar over to his back. KurukVile was about to go over to get a look at the youth that Lhaklar had fallen beside when his brother walked over; Tazir was fast in both kneeling down and in rolling him over.

"Eshal _will_ be _thrilled_ when she comes back from her shopping trip!" his brother near-exclaimed. "Alright boys, lets get my sons to the ship. Put them in a room—make sure that it's locked. I want two of my staff to guard the door to ensure that my boys won't get out and escape."

"Who is that one, Tazir?" KurukVile asked. "Is he Hazaar or—"

"He is most definitely Hazaar—didn't you hear Lhaklar call him that?" TazirVile looked at his older brother; the corners of his O-shaped mouth were so drawn up that he looked almost hideous to look at.

"No, the wind was making a lot of unnecessary noise where I was—I wasn't able to hear much of anything that was said between them, sadly." KurukVile replied. After feeling his coat being pulled back, and then the ends of a set of fingers pressing down on the gashes that he had on his back, he turned his head. "Triskull," he said after seeing that it was his son who was fussing and fretting over him. "tone it down back there. Flesh wounds—they're not deep. Nothing to worry over."

"You sure, Father?" Triskull asked. He was concerned; although his father's long, brown leather coat, that had a brown fur ring around the neck, shoulders, and down the front, near to where the buttons were, had taken most of Lhaklar's lion-formed assault there were three, deep scratches on his back.

"Perfectly sure." KurukVile said, he then turned his attention back towards the two, sleeping boys. "These two should be treated for whatever injuries they have." he knelt down, then started looking at Lhaklar's left arm; after peeling two of the bandages back, he grimaced. "Especially this one. The younger one... Hazaar, excuse me, had a limp on him so I'd get him treated as well."

"I'll have that done the soonest they wake up." TazirVile said. He nodded at Homsi, Eldass, and Losal then backed away. "That way they'll see that I meant them no harm—and which'll cause them to calm down some towards me."


	27. Chapter 27

"Welcome back," KurukVile said after his wife walked into the room that they used as a bedroom. His wife, looking as beautiful as ever, had more than five bags on her; when he went over to assist in carrying them to the bed, he wasn't but so surprised over having her turning him, and his assistance, down—women, he knew, were notoriously famous for being rather picky over who touched the items that they purchased and then came home with. He wasn't offended by her turning his offer of assistance down.

"He awake?" Irka asked as she unloaded the mass amount of bags that she had on her arms. Each bag was placed to the bed then swiftly emptied of their contents; her husband, while watching her go to work on her purchases, took a seat on one of the room's chairs.

"Not that I know of." KurukVile replied as he started counting the bags that littered the bed. "I'm not going to ask how much of what I gave you was spent—twelve bags... you bought out a whole store!"

"Silly Kuru," she smiled, then walked over to her husband; a kiss to the cheek was given, then an affectionate fondling of his chest, which was out and in the open, was done. "You gave me four hundred dollars... used all but fifty of it."

"You keep that—whatever I give you, you don't ever bother giving back." KurukVile said. Although he was serious on this request he was struggling to not cringe—when he was a very young child, he had been called Kuru-Boo by his mother; the woman still called him that, much to his distinct displeasure. His wife, while taking the "Boo" from his childhood nickname, used "Kuru" with him from time to time as a sort of petname—he despised being called that name... but he'd never tell his wife this, since she seemed "so fond" of calling him it. "Not a red cent, hear me now?"

"I know the score, Kuruk." his wife said as she went back to the bed, and her purchases. She sifted through three dresses, and then two pairs of shoes, before speaking again. "You like spoiling me, and the children... when they've been behaved for a period of time, that is. Kaasa had a blast... she and Uevaa went off on their own to—"

"They did what?" KurukVile gasped in sudden alarm.

With his wife being busy with her purchases, and with things looking to be very calm and cool between them, he had simply remained in the chair that he had taken to sit in; now that his wife had just let it out of the bag about letting their young daughter, and his sister, go off on their own, he shot up like a roman firecracker.

The chair, which very nearly toppled over to its side, was made of genuine black leather; it was one of the club types, and was quite tufted, but pleasant to the eye of the one who used it—which would be he... his wife had more feminine tastes so she didn't much like the chair that he had just gotten up from. He was fast in correcting the chair's balance, and in putting it back on its stationed area; with that done, he re-took his seat in it.

The room that he had chosen to be his and his wife's bedroom chamber was a spacious one—he was more than a little glad for this; he didn't like the idea of he and Irka being in a cramped room or in engaging in martial activities while being in a cramped room. The bed, which was seated to the far left of the room, and which was pushed up against the wall, had a black stone frame to it; the bedding that was on it was black and gray striped, the quilt that they used on them especially cold nights was light gray in color. It was all folded up on the bed's end. There were many pillows on this bed; most were black and gray checkered, and had white tassels on their edges. There were two, purple and black checkered pillows on the bed as well; these also had white tassels on their edges. A majority of these pillows had a KS—his initials—on them while the purple and black checkered ones had IS—his wife's initials—on them.

Across from the bed sat a dark mahogany dresser; a matching bedside table was to either side of the bed. Beside the dresser sat a black couch, that had very dark red cushions on it; a portrait of him and his wife was hanging on the wall above the couch. A purple-velor chair, that's back, seat, and arms were designed to look like the petals of a rose, was to the right of the bed; the items that his wife used when she was sewing were on the purple chrome table that was directly beside the chair. An animal-print dog bed was to the other side of this chair; it was currently being used by his wife's favorite pet, who she refused to leave behind when she was notified of being taken anywhere for a stretch of time. A black-glass table, that sat on curved-accent legs, was sitting just before the chair that he was sitting on; a few candles, and books and magazines, and a black French phone, was on its surface.

The carpeting in the room was mostly black in color; all sorts of red roses were on this carpet... some were normal in appearance while others were bleeding. All sorts of spider webs decorated the room's corners—these gave the room a masculine feeling, which he liked. There were black and red candles on the dresser, which had all sorts of animal skulls on either side of its surface. Behind him sat a large, stuffed Grizzly bear; a lion rug, that still had its head on it, was all stretched out before the bed's foot—both of these animals he had hunted while on Earth two thousand, two hundred years ago. Like with the spider webs, he felt that these two trophies gave the room a further masculine feeling.

"Careful with that, Irka. As you know, I'm rather protective of our young ones." KurukVile said after getting control of himself. His wife had jumped at his reaction to her telling him about Kaasa and Uevaa going off on their own but she hadn't said anything in regards to his needing to calm down or on what she had said to him. "There are men who wait in the shadows for young, defenseless girls. Don't want one of my own to be snatched away from me."

"Me either, honey. They and I were in constant contact—I knew where they were, and what they were doing." Irka said. She put some of the things that she had purchased away before speaking again. "Was it just Lhaklar who was captured? Your text message was a bit jumbled at the end—I couldn't understand the last part of your message."

"With what happened, I'm surprised that I was able to send you any text messages. Couldn't keep my hands steady... I was all jittery." he explained the reason behind his text message being so messed up. "No, it wasn't just Lhaklar—his little brother, Hazaar, was also captured."

"Hazaar?" the floor length, plum-colored, satin and chiffron dress, that she had just taken the tags from, was dropped; after hearing what her husband had just said, she couldn't resist from turning and then taking a few steps towards him. "Hazaar was captured as well?"

"Yes,"

"How... how..."

"Both are injured." KurukVile said. His wife looked to be having a hard time in speaking; he helped her along by answering the question that she wasn't able to get out to him. "Hazaar looked to have an injury of some sort to his right leg—he was doing a lot of limping before the darts were administered. Lhaklar's left arm had a few wraps of bandaging on it—most, if not all, were falling off, so I was able to see that he has a few bad burns on that limb."

"You sure that—"

"According to my brother, Lhaklar used his name." KurukVile said.

"I bet Tazzy's thrilled in knowing that he has not one but two sons still alive." Irka said. She said nothing more for a few seconds before sighing. "How was he in body weight? As you know, he was a hundred years old when Angel left. Is he stunted or..."

"Far as I could tell, he looked perfectly formed." KurukVile replied after his wife trailed off. "Just his leg that needs mending, is all."

"Bile?"

"No, not in the area, and neither was that other fellow that Tazir saw on Zeta Ren. Or Angel, for that matter." KurukVile replied. "It was just them two."

Though it pained her to think it, she did so anyways: she didn't have all that much confidence in Angel's mothering skills anymore. The girl had left them, and had taken all four of her sons, two of whom were still infants, with her; so much had happened on the planet, and so much unknown stuff had happened in the raising of the boys. Angel had really risked the lives of her children, the two infants especially—it was highly recommended that no one teleport with an infant in-tote and yet her granddaughter had gone and done it and it was also very recommended to keep the target distance between home and the teleporting location short when there were children under the age of eight hundred involved. Angel had teleported, with all of her children in-tote, from Moas to Earth... there were more than twenty million miles between both planets, so she had really been putting everyone, herself included, at risk.

The thing that gave her most concern, besides the relative health of the boys, of course, was their schooling. Had Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar been sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, and then to two or three other schools, or had their educations been neglected—like she thought they had been. Angel only had half an education at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, and she didn't have a good insight on one being evil, or getting the education to be evil; for all she and Kuruk knew, Angel might of decided to completely forgo sending her sons to school just to keep them from wanting to walk in their fathers footsteps.

She put the rest of her purchases away, then threw the bags into the wastebasket, which was built into one of the room's walls, then started for the door. Her husband was fast in getting up from his chair, which she did think was an eyesore, and in barring her from leaving the room.

"Uh-uh, Irka. Let's leave this to Tazir—he's given orders for everyone to wait until he gives word on it being okay for the boys to be seen." he said.

"I want to see the boys now, Kuruk. A woman who knows well how a child develops needs to be around to see if there's anything wrong with the two of them." she said as she tried to dodge past her husband.

"Have faith, Irka." KurukVile said as he closed the bedroom door. Though concerned over the boys' development, and education statuses, he was retaining it—someone had to act somewhat rational in the present situation and he took to the helm in being that someone.

As Irka was giving her husband the iron-eye, Cyla was forcing herself to remain seated on the couch; she, along with her daughter, Uevaa, had just got in from shopping and, like Irka, she had been told about Lhaklar's and Hazaar's capture—Duru had let her put her purchases away, and get unwound from her trip, before telling her what happened at the hot spring. The air had seemingly left her after being told of the capture, then her face had turned a very dark blue color after she realized that the father of the two of the boys was inexperienced with dealing with the highs and lows of male teenagers; she had been in the process of leaving her husband's ship when her husband's hand landed on her arm. She was nervous and, really, so was her husband—she had only to look at them eyes of his to know that he was.

Duru had given her, and Uevaa, $220 to shop with; he had also given her the instruction on tagging with Irka and Kaasa, which she had only half-done—around half of the trip in the mall complex of Mos Inerio had been spent with Irka and Kaasa, the rest they had spent away from them. Of the money given to them, only ten dollars wasn't spent; Duru, much like Kuruk, had said for the two of them to keep it.

Her whole family was in the ship's living room; she, Uevaa, and Selik were seated on the room's four-seat, slate gray, velor couch. The multi-gray pelts, that were stretched across the couch's back, had come from four of the planet's Gray Wolf population; Duru had spent a good lot of time tracking a pack of the creatures, and then taking four down, over two thousand years ago—he claimed that the furs gave the room a sort of "charm" which she did tend to agree with. Gaajah was seated on the chair that matched the couch; like with the couch, the chair had a fur on it—Wolverine, instead of Gray Wolf.

The thick-glass coffee table, that was seated before the couch and chair, had the basic items on it—the remote to the 75" big screen tv, which was across the room from her and her children, a few books, and some scented candles. The three oil lamps, all that were hanging on the room's golden-brown wood paneled walls, were lighting the room up nicely. On the wall behind her was a very special photograph—both she and her husband were dressed well for their wedding and, regardless of that day being nearly ruined by Angel, and her foul attitude, they had been happy. The dark silver, walnut wood table that sat to her left had a simple lamp on it; the opening that was in the table's center contained a black and leather phone, which she thought was more than just plain unique. The carpet in the room was shag-like in appearance; along with being rather comfortable, and soft, it was also a mauve color. The ceiling above matched the carpet well.

To the far right of the room stood a solid wood table; an old, petrified turntable was on its surface. Thinking it best to get some noise going in the room, Cyla stood them went towards it; the shelf that was above the table had more than enough records on it, she was quick in taking one of her and her husband's old favorites down.

LOK, a classical band, that had a better than melodic sound to it, was swiftly put into the turntable; she put the dial on the record, then pressed the button for it to be played, then went back to the couch. The musical notes of LOK had only just started being heard when her husband, who seemed to be going from one room to the next, walked in.

"Good idea, Cylie." DuruVile said as he got Gaajah to get up from the room's chair. Gaajah, now sans his chair, sulked over to the couch; he sat beside his younger brother, who was fast in elbowing him in the ribs. "Lightens the mood and also gives us something else to think of."

"What did he look like?" Uevaa asked. Other than being curious about Hazaar she was also very excited. "Dad, wh—"

"Uevaa, down girl." DuruVile said. Uevaa was fast in doing as he had said. "I'm not sure what he looks like—Tazir grabbed the ones nearest him then went off to where the boys had been seen. He gave not a look in my direction when the message from his butlers was received."

"Looks like an older version of what he was when he was a baby." Gaajah said quickly. "Just taller, and with more hair."

"He was cute when he was a baby! I bet he's still cute n—"

"Do I need to say it again?" DuruVile gave his daughter a watch-it look then leaned back in his chair. "When time comes for us to finally see him, and his brother, you best stick to our sides. No wondering off, and none of that girlie pestering crap. Hear me?"

"Yes daddy." Uevaa replied.

"You can be curious all you want—just you don't get any crushes on him." DuruVile said. "You're much too young, and Hazaar is your nephew. He's a member of your family—I won't have anymore of this Family Mate shit happening and it definitely won't be happening with one of my kids."

"You really need to knock some sense into Tazir, Duru." Cyla sighed. "He, as of our arrival here, has been very disrespectful."

"He needs a good belt to the back and one of my boots kicking him in the ass." DuruVile said.

"How old is Hazaar, dad?" Selik asked his father. "Is he older, or younger, than me?"

"Older—ninety-one years to be exact." DuruVile replied. "You was just nine years old when his mother ran off with him and his brothers."

Since the subject was out and in the open, she stood up; she walked over to her husband, then tapped him on the shoulder, then had him follow her to the kitchen. He was fast in telling their kids to behave before doing so.

While her husband's ship was small in regards to the other ships that were owned by his relatives the space on the inside had been used very well—and wisely. Each room was big enough for one to not get claustrophobic and there was enough space in the hallways for more than two to walk through without doing the elbow or shoulder bumping thing. The kitchen part of the ship was one of her favorite parts; it was comfortable, and full of all the things that one needed to either cook with or on, and it was big enough for a family of around eight persons to dine without running the concern of who would be elbowing, or knocking knees, with another who was eating.

Nickle-painted cabinets and counters ran halfway around the room; the counters had black marble surfaces on them, which were as shiny and as clean as ever. The refrigerator, one of them silver-chrome types that had an ice-box built into it, was between two of the room's counters; the stove, which had two venison burners and two normal burners on it, was four steps from the fridge. A microwave, a coffee pot, and a blender were between them two appliances. The floor underneath her feet was blue and green in color; it was also hopscotch-patterned. The drywall of the room had a French lace texture to it while the ceiling above was as smooth as could be; both were a light blue color, which did go very well with the floor.

A round table, that had five chairs seated around it, was what she went to; unless someone was sick, or very badly injured, or away tending business, everyone, without fail, would be at this table come time for mealtime. Instead of taking a seat at the table, her husband stood with his back leaned up against the kitchen doorway; he waited for what she didn't want the children to hear, or be apart of, to be spoken of.

"Who all went with Tazir when word reached him about Lhaklar and Hazaar being in the area?" she asked.

"Trobrencus, Kuruk, Triskull, and Cheshire," her husband answered. "There were four Goblins there as well."

"Not surprised over his taking that sissy with him." Cyla said. Her husband knew that she was referencing Cheshire, who neither of them seemed to like or hold very favorably. "You really need to get on Tazir about Cheshire, Duru. The man's his stepfather—he's not related to him by blood, so there shouldn't be any close-knit relationships being held between the two of them. I can see Ashaklar being called Lhaklar and Hazaar's grandmother—she is, as is I—but Cheshire has no relation to them. He shouldn't be called or given any titles."

"Cheshire is nothing but a dupe—I'll have him, along with his sons and daughters, and that wife of his, sent back to Zeta Ren soon. Been getting sick of him anyways." DuruVile said. "He goes around, thinking and acting like he's better than everyone. 'Oh, I had three, back-to-back sons, then two daughters with a son following. I'm a big, successful farmer and miner. I'm better than everyone despite the fact that I carry nothing more then peasant blood in me.' It sickens me!"

"How long have Hazaar and Lhaklar been in camp?" Cyla asked.

"Little more than thirty minutes," DuruVile replied. "I've got the foggiest idea on what happened—the Goblins carried the two of them in. No fuss or mouth was given from them... it was almost like they were sleeping or something."

"You need to contact Tazir and now," Cyla said. Concern was just about as thick as could be in her voice. "The whole nine yards needs to be done on them—a full physical, by an actual doctor; a good, hot meal; medicine where its needed; and an interrogation. We need to know where Bile and Angel, and that other youth, are so we can go retrieve them." she said not a thing more for a few seconds before sighing, then saying, "Not to mention, he doesn't know how to raise, or act around, sons. We have tons of experience while he has none."

"I'll call him now." DuruVile said as he left the kitchen.

Losal Khrelan and Abevo Speelin, while DuruVile went to grab a phone, and then call their employer about issues that he shouldn't be concerning himself with, were standing before the door to the room that their employer's two sons were in. Their ears were very finely tuned in to their surroundings, so not much would be able to get past them—the strokes of the broom, that was being used by one of the maids two halls from them; the sneeze that one of their co-workers, who was in the next hallway over, tried to suppress; and, yes, any and all sounds that came from the room that they were guarding were all being heard by them. The two youngsters, who everyone had automatically started referencing as The Young Masters right after the call came in about their capture, had been carefully brought in on folding stretchers thirty-two minutes ago; the two of them had been placed in the room—on the bed—and then left alone. The only one who had gone in to tamper with them had been Homsi, who had had the antidote, that would reverse the effects that the Sleeping Darts caused to one who had been darted, on his person.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Losal was worried about the physical state of the older boy. He had been the one to place the youngster on the folding stretcher and he had also been the one to assist in bringing him into the room; to him, the youngster looked a bit on the thin side, which, to him, wasn't good. The fact that the younger boy was shorter than both his brother and father hadn't escaped him either; he was giving the boy the benefit of a doubt on his height—for all he knew, he might be perfectly healthy... and, deep down, he knew that he was still growing. He hadn't reached his height of five feet until after reaching two thousand, four hundred, and thirty-nine years of age; for all he knew, the younger of his employer's two surviving sons might reach his full adult height at that age as well.

"The maximum life expectancy of the drug that's in them darts is an hour; the antidote is suppose to kick in around five minutes after its administering." he thought after checking the watch that was on his left wrist.

He and Abevo had been told to guard the door and to not leave it for anything; the two of them, he did believe, had just that intention in mind—or, at least he did. He hoped that Abevo would adhere to the order given to them; it was very important that they keep watch of their employer's sons and make sure that no one other than the boys' father entered the room.

"Hear anything?" Losal asked Abevo. His co-worker had just turned; his ear was flat against the door of the room now.

"Nope. Don't hear anything, and that includes footsteps." Abevo replied.

"Should one of us go in and see if they're okay?" Losal asked. "Or do you think Master Tazir would just want his sons to be left alone?"

"How long has it been since they were brought in?" Abevo asked.

"Thirty-two minutes; the antidote was given twenty-eight minutes ago." Losal replied.

"I'd—"

"Master Tazir wants to know if either of you have heard anything going on in the room yet?" Homsi asked as he walked up.

"Not a peep—quiet as can be in there." Abevo replied.

"They should be awake by now." Losal said, concern was very evident in his voice.

"They should, but I gave them a small dosage of the antidote—it might take a few more minutes before they wake up." Homsi said.

"How much did you give them?" Losal asked.

"A cc. Each."

"That makes me feel better then."

"As soon as you hear something, contact me. That rank Duru just got through speaking with our employer. He's causing trouble already so keep on your toes." Homsi said as he started down the hallway.

Even though he was relieved to hear that it was the dosage of the antidote that was causing the two, sleeping boys to not be up and at 'em he wasn't happy over hearing that his employer's father had called the ship's number; he had only to hear that the man had called to know what had been spoken about. Duru wasn't one of them men who he'd let one of his kids, after they reached the age to date and then marry, bring home; he'd not so much as look at one who resembled his employer's father in attitude before kicking them from his home and then from his daughter's life.

This was a delicate time; calls from folk who thought they knew it all, and who also thought that everyone and their mother's had to bow down to their every whim, need not be received. His employer had given his father the boot from the area a few weeks ago; even though he had let the man come back into the area, and was speaking to him, their relationship hadn't gotten any better—it had stayed much the same, actually. The same went with the Loud Mouth that his employer's father had gone and married; if there was such a woman that he wanted far from him it would be her. She was much like her husband—a know-it-all.

Cyla Dyla, he remembered, had once been allowed to move in with his employer after Bespe, his employer's first wife, had been divorced and then left the house; instead of helping, like she had said she would, she had just lazed around. In a lot of ways, she had just used the "opportunity" to gain the life that she had formerly had with Duru—she was one hell of a spoiled rotten woman who seemed to think that everyone and everything had to answer to her every word and be delivered to her on a silver platter. Instead of helping in the raising of Miss. Eshal, she had just lain in bed, or mooch off his employer—he remembered a time where she had actually had the nerve to ask him for money; the reason, at the time, had been for her to go out to get Eshal some clothes... instead of coming back with stuff for his employer's daughter she had come back with stuff that she and only she could wear.

The times where she had helped in looking after Miss. Eshal hadn't been done right; he remembered a time where she had actually yelled at the girl... had gotten on her real hard for her simple action in leaving her toys strewn about her bedroom chamber. His employer, who had heard the getting-on, had come in to put a quick stop to it; the woman had also been right hard on his employer too. Along with getting on him about his lifestyle, and choices, she had also gotten on him for his habits, for how he wasn't going out to do any conquering, for how he wasn't going out to find a new spouse, and for how he "spoiled" his daughter. He and his co-workers had been glad when the woman moved out—no more of her know-it-all ways and no more of her getting on everyone for every little non-existent or non-concerning thing that they did and, above all, no more of having to put the bit in on their lives just to satisfy her and her overbearing nature and attitude.

Losal sighed; in his eyes, his employer was a fabulous father. He was kind, gentle, and understanding; while he disciplined his kids when he had to he was also pretty patient and lenient with them.

The frame to the door had just been leaned on when he heard the tiniest sound one could ever hear; once he heard the sound, he turned. He signaled for Abevo to be quiet while he pressed his ear to the door.

"Hazaar?" Lhaklar said in the smallest of sleep-clogged voices as he turned, then gave his brother's shoulder a shake. "You okay? Hazaar?"

His vision was still blurry, so he couldn't see anything of the area where he, and his brother, were. As it was, he could just barely make out the form of his brother, who was sleeping on his side right beside him.

It felt like he had been hit by a freight train; everything hurt, and he was fighting both the fatigue that wanted to claim him and the pain that he was feeling. Even though he couldn't see very well, he still had his sense of feeling—it felt like he and his brother were on a bed of some sort, and it also felt like this bed had a sort of fur on it... which was very soft and fine. Even though he drew a blank on what happened he figured that he and his brother were in a room of some sort; the location, or vessel that this room was in, he neither wanted to know or think about. He just wanted his vision to clear, for his pains to stop being what they were, and, above all, for his brother to respond to his calls.

With Hazaar not responding to him, he swung his legs up and then over the side of the bed; the moan that came out of him, after he got to his feet, was low while his collapse to the floor was loud—while the two Goblins behind the door of the room heard both, it was really the sound of his collapse that sent them into action. He lie on the floor for a bit—his bearings were gotten, his vision was cleared, and his pains subsided just a bit—before deciding to get up; while the rest of his vision returned to him, he did a few walking laps around the room.

He was so stiff and sore... it almost felt like everything was shouting for him to sit, or lie, down and it almost felt like he had been broken and then reassembled incorrectly. After the fourth trip around the room was done, he stopped then went back to his brother, who was still sleeping on his side. He was just reaching his brother's side, and was just reaching over to give his shoulder a firm shove, when most of what happened came flooding back to him.

He and his brother had found themselves cornered at the hot spring; they had tried fighting the ones who had come to capture them only to fall. The two of them had fallen asleep and, obviously, their captors had taken advantage of that. Either they were with one of their captors or they were with a relative of one of their captors.

"Hazaar? Wake up, man." he said as he gave his brother's shoulder a good shove.

The bed did, indeed, have a fur on it—it was a very pristine white color and, most curiously, it was made to be the bed's actual comforter. The rest of the bedding was powder blue to light blue in color; the four, large-sized pillows that were on the bed were wearing powder blue pillow cases that had a T and a S stitched in, what he believed, real gold on their sides.

On either side of the bed was a light blue painted walnut bedside table; the one to the left of the bed had a lamp on it that looked to be made completely out of granite stone—he was shocked over the fact that it was all lit up along the bottom. The other table had an hourglass-shaped alarm clock, two glasses of water, and a remote control on it. A medium-blue dresser sat off to the left side of the room; it had gold handles on it, the attached mirror had a light gold frame to it. The walls and ceiling were a very faint blue color; a sort of chandelier, that looked to have white zircon crystals hanging from it, was hanging from the ceiling's center. The carpet was a little darker blue color than the walls and ceiling. With the exception of the medium blue cabinet, that sat off to the room's right side, and a set of rattan chairs that had white cushions on them, and a two-seat, light blue fainting couch—which were both seated a foot or so from the door that went to, he presumed, the room's personal bathroom—, and a large, 60" screen, which was directly across from the bed's foot and directly beside the room's door, there was nothing else in the room.

After taking the room in, he deduced that their captor was relatively well-off—money-wise. The gold handles on the dresser, the light gold frame that was around the dresser's attached mirror, and the chandelier, with its zircon-like crystal hang-ons, just screamed affluent. After seeing that the room had a walk-in bathroom in it, he forgot all about waking Hazaar—not since going to the bathroom after eating breakfast had he used a toilet; now that the room was known to have a bathroom in it, he went to it.

"Hey," Lhaklar said after exiting the bathroom, then noticing that his brother was awake, and was sitting upright on the bed. "You okay?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know!" Hazaar, who sounded a bit hysterical, said. "I want mom! I-I want mommy!"

Even though he and his brothers were in their teen years they still called their mother mommy—sometimes... on and off... only when they were extremely nervous, or scared. He stepped towards his brother, fully intending to go to him to give him some brother-comfort, before putting the brakes on—he remembered it all now! Their father, along with a bunch of others, had appeared at the spring! After they appeared, he had taken the initiative to use the last of his Transformative powers to change into an immature lion; he had gone after his father first, then his uncle—Kuruk—, then he had just jumped on his uncle's son—Triskull—and had just clamped his jaws to his shoulder when something pricked him on the neck.

With the full recollection of what had happened in place, he went to the door; he had a sinking feeling that they were with their father and that their "generous" host wasn't that far from him. This feeling had no more come to him before his leg muscles started working; when he crashed into the door, the two Goblins who were guarding it jumped back. He ignored his pains as he started pounding on the door—he hoped to either bust it down or make a hole big enough in it somewhere where he could reach through then unlock it. With himself and his brother being where they were, he automatically knew that the door was locked and that no part of yelling for anyone to let them out would happen. He ran at the door again and again before stopping; when he placed his hand to the door's backside, then toned in to his Telepathic abilities, he saw that his father was rushing down the hallway that was two hallways from the one that the room was on. With this piece of information known, he turned from the door then went back to the bed; Hazaar had since calmed down. He was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Fuck! Mom's gonna kill me!" Lhaklar exclaimed. "She's going to find out that we were captured—there's no if, might's, or maybe's on if she will or won't... she'll find out, then she'll get mad, then all hell will break lose!"

"Your fault—if you hadn't of gone to the hot spring we wouldn't be in this situation." Hazaar said.

"You remember your lessons at UT? How to block one from reading your mind and all?"

"Course, why?" Hazaar asked.

"Because dad's the one who has us—knowing him, he'll use what he knows in Telepathy to read our minds. He'll want to find mom, Bile, and Lazeer and he'll want—"

"How do you know that it's the old man who has us?" Hazaar asked. "For all we know, one of them other guys who jumped out from behind the bushes that surround the spring has us."

"Cause I used my Telepathy on the door—he's here... with us..." Lhaklar came close to shouting.

"Calm yourself will ya—you won't be the only one needing an obituary to be written. After momma hears that I was also captured, she'll be coming after me too. Y'know the fresh-made grave that's bedside yours, right? That's mine. I'll be joining you in the ground soon, so cool it." Hazaar preached. He said nothing more for a few seconds; he cleared his throat a few times before speaking again. "I just hope that it's mom who'll be doing the whipping and lashing and not dad. I'm pretty sore... I can fight but—"

"Hazaar,"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens just remember the spells, charms, and whatever you learned from the University of Telepathy and—" Lhaklar turned after hearing the sound of voices, and the sound of keys being jingled, happening behind the room's door. "Let's have our father find out about Lazeer on his own, okay?"

"Sure, and keep your head where it's suppose to be." Hazaar said. After saying this, he stood up; he took two, pain-filled steps from the bed before collapsing. Lhaklar went over to him quickly; with his body being as pain-logged as it was, it was no surprise to him that his legs gave out on him. He fell to his side like a sack of potatoes right when the key to the door's lock was inserted.

He pushed the conversation that he had just had with his father out of his head as he pushed the key into the keyhole of the door that went to the room that his sons were in; one twist was all it took for the lock to be undone—his action of grabbing the door knob, and then giving it a single twist, was all he needed to do to get the door to open.

He was worried, like everyone else was, but even more so now that one of them had run at and then started pounding on the door; Losal had said that both of his sons were awake, and that one had not only run at the door but had also pounded on it—he knew that this was true because he had heard the noise from such actions being done. While on the way to the room, to see if his sons were awake or not, he had heard it. This action gave him a big cause to be further concerned for them; the two were already hurt, they didn't need to be injured more, or to be hurting more than they currently were.

After the door was unlocked, he told Homsi to come into the room with him; he pushed the door open then went in after the Goblin nodded his head. The door was swiftly shut behind the both of them after they were safely in the room; Losal, Abevo, and Eldass—who had just run up to see what was going on—positioned themselves before the door right after it was closed. The first thing that he saw, after entering the room, was that Lhaklar was struggling to his feet; the younger boy, Hazaar, was on the floor. He was on his side.

Homsi, on his silent cue, stood near the door; he had a very concerned look on his face, but he decided to let his employer take care of things. TazirVile walked over to the bed right after taking in the situation that he had walked in on; Lhaklar, despite being grieved with his aches and pains, placed himself before Hazaar quickly.

"You look well rested for only having thirty minutes of sleep." TazirVile said.

"What is the reason for your having us here?" Lhaklar demanded to know.

"Same reason for why I came to this planet," TazirVile replied. "Your mother placed a call to a program that your sister was on; she gave a small hint as to where she, you, and your brothers are."

Nothing was said between the two of them for thirty seconds; when he saw the ghost of non-belief flow over his son's face, he decided to change that.

"I came here to bring you home, Son. To where you belong."

"You think I'm a fool? You practically came here with an army." Lhaklar shot.

"I don't see you as a fool—there's no army here. Only members of your family." TazirVile said. With this being said, he looked down at Hazaar. After a few seconds passed, he knelt down. "Hazaar, is it?"

"Yeah, what's it to ya?" Hazaar spat.

"You've grown very well." TazirVile said. "When I last saw you, you was only a hundred years old."

With the man kneeling just feet from his body, he couldn't help but look at him. He had never seen such an outfit before in his life! The man was wearing a green striped tuxedo—the shirt was a normal, white one while the vest that was over it was medium green in color and had light green ties on it. The jacket had a long tail on the back that ran down to just below the man's knees; the shoes that were on the man's feet were a dark green color. This man, who he was really only seeing for the first time, looked nothing like him—everything of what had been in them pictures that his mother had gone out of her way to develop for him and his brothers was proven correct; the man had light blue skin and large, oval-shaped, silver-shiny eyes. The teardrop-shaped head possessed two holes where a nose would normally be and an O-shaped mouth in it. It didn't take him long to realize what Lazeer's goggled glass would look like—the pair of goggled glasses that were over the man's eyes were as clear and as clean as could be; the band that kept them in place was barely noticeable. This man, when he stood, had a height of six foot, one—the man only stood after Lhaklar lunged in his direction. Before Lhaklar was hit, he was able to see that the man had suction cups on the ends of each of his fingers—which looked damn strong to him!

A very visible warning was given to Lhaklar before the resonant thwapping sound filled the room; Lhaklar, who hadn't been spanked in many hundreds of years, was taken off guard with the action that had just been done on him. Hazaar, while slow in getting to his feet, wasn't slow in taking two steps from him; he had no more taken them two steps before his wounded leg gave out on him. He had just started to fall when the man, who's name was TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, grabbed him.

"Calm down now," TazirVile said after Hazaar shoved his elbows into his side. "Lhaklar, you need to behave now. I'm not going to hurt neither of you and you both kn... yey!"

Hazaar, thinking fast, had brought his hands together; he had swung them, intending to make the man who had spanked his older brother, and driven his brother from him, back away from him and leave him alone. Surprisingly, all he caught was air—the man who was his father had seen what was coming and had moved out of the way. A whacking sound was heard, then a stinging sensation was felt—though shocked over being spanked, he didn't let his pride be dented or for his resolve to fall. Like Lhaklar, he hadn't been spanked in many hundreds of years and, like his brother, he was taken aback by the action that was done on him. His shock was only on him for a second before lifting—when his father's hand landed on his arm, he started fighting him.

Homsi was fast in yelling after Hazaar turned on his father; TazirVile took two punches to the stomach, then another to the face, before gaining control of his son. He gave Hazaar two, well-meaning spanks then released him; he took two steps back after releasing him. Lhaklar walked forward; he placed himself before his brother and the man who had dared to spank them. TazirVile stared at his two sons; though still concerned for them he was also frustrated—while he understood the reason behind Hazaar's actions, and while he understood that Lhaklar was only acting as a big brother should in protecting his little brother, he didn't understand the reason behind their actions in being so hostile towards him. The thought of their not knowing who he was was thought of for only a second before being discarded—of course they knew who he was! Angel had to of told them who he was in regards to them and she had to of taught them the proper way of respecting the one who had provided the juices for their creation to be done.

"You two need to behave now—you're both injured, and tired, and sore. You need some care for your injuries." TazirVile said after the atmosphere in the room calmed down. "I'm not going to hurt neither of you—I'm your father... I wouldn't hurt a hair on neither of you even if my life depended on it."

"Sure, I doubt that after you swiped at us." Lhaklar growled.

"Surely, my son, your mother has disciplined you, and Hazaar, plenty of times." TazirVile said.

"Dish toweling, as we call it." Lhaklar replied.

"Mistress Angel disciplines you and your brothers with a dish towel?" Hazaar cocked his head to the side; he looked at the brown-skinned Goblin, who had large, expressive, blue eyes, and who had light gray hair sticking out from the inside of both of his ears, for only a second before turning his attention back to his father.

"Better than a stick, Homsi." TazirVile said. Since the man had spoken, and had made his presence be known to the two boys, he decided to do a sort of introduction. "Lhaklar, Hazaar. That's Homsi—he's my most trusted, and loyal, butler. He'll be assisting me when I take you two from this room in a few minutes. We're to head to the medical chamber here and soon—your many injuries will be treated there."

"I take it that the old man just announced that he has a male lover." Hazaar said in a slightly cutsie way. Lhaklar snickered, then shook head.

"Good one, Little Brother." Lhaklar said.

"Employee, Hazaar. Not lover." TazirVile said. "Homsi's been working for me for years. For your mother as well."

When the door clicked, then opened, Hazaar looked over in its direction; he wasn't but so surprised over seeing three more Goblins entering the room. His father hadn't said anything for them to come in yet here they were and, there was his father, who looked very pleased with their sudden arrival.

The Goblin who stepped over to his father's left side looked rather elderly; his face had more than enough wrinkles on it. The nose that was on this one guy's face was just about as long as that of what Alec Baldwin had on him after he changed his form to scare off the Deetz's, who had moved into the house that most of the events of the 1988 American comedy film, Beetlejuice, took place in—the only difference between his nose and "Adam Maitland's" was the fact that his nose had some large nostrils in it. This man also had light blue skin and eyes; he stood four foot, seven inches, had a lean body build, and looked right smart in the eyes. His hair was as white as snow and was as fluffy as could be.

The man who stepped up to his father's right side looked a bit young in the face; he stood five feet tall, had green skin, and a lean body build. His face had a few warts on it; his nose was long, yes, but thin in comparison to the other guy's honker. His brown hair was scraggly in appearance. While the guy to his father's left was wearing a white tuxedo, this guy was wearing a plum-colored tuxedo. The guy that was standing just behind his father had brown hair, that was slicked back, and green eyes; this guy stood four foot, nine inches tall and had a much more sturdier—burlier—body build than the other three Goblins that were in the room.

With the three Goblins now being in the room, and with his father being very quiet, Hazaar took to the initiative in trying his powers—his hand was sent in Homsi's direction; he tried to make a gust of air come out... he was very surprised when nothing happened. When he saw that he was power-less, he hugged up against Lhaklar; either there was a spell in the room or he had been drained of his powers. That just about scared his testicles from him.

"Lhaklar, Hazaar," TazirVile said after Hazaar hugged up against Lhaklar. "on my left is Abevo." he gestured at the burly-bodied Goblin who's brown hair was all slicked back. "And on my right is Losal," he gestured at the taller of the room's three Goblins. "They mean you no harm either. They're just here to give me, and you, some assistance. The man next to Homsi is Eldass—he's the longest employed man in my service. He also means you no harm."

"Momma!" Hazaar yelled. He was trying to contact his and Lhaklar's mother. "Mommy!"

"Mom!" Lhaklar joined his brother in trying to contact their mother. It wasn't long before the room was full of 'mom's', 'mommy's', and 'momma's'.

"Boys! That is enough!" TazirVile exclaimed. With that being said, and with quiet being resumed in the room, he brought his hand to his forehead; he rubbed his forehead once before lowering it. "I want a ring made around my sons—don't any of you break it, or let them get away. We're headed to the medical chamber, where whatever injuries they have will be treated and where a full physical will be conducted."

When it came time for them to escort the two youngsters from the room, they found themselves as having a minor issue on their hands with Hazaar; he tried to bolt from their control right after they exited the room and then he tried again during their tenure in going down the hallway that branched from the one that the room was on. Lhaklar proved to be no problem at all; though slow, due to his aches and pains, and to the stiffness that he was feeling, he let them lead him to the medical chamber.

The Goblins did as they were told to do; Eldass and Homsi took to the front of the escorting circle while Abevo was to the left of the boys, Losal was to the boys' immediate right. TazirVile took up the rear—he was fast in placing his hand on Hazaar's shoulder when he started trying to bolt from their control and he was also fast in reprimanding him when he mouthed off at him.

While on the way to the room that their father wanted them to be taken to, both he and his brother took in their surroundings. It seemed like there were more than five hallways in the ship—all of these hallways had purple carpeting on their floors, light brown walls and ceilings, and were decorated with either normal, gold, or silver-colored bats. Each of the bats that they passed had been preserved with their wings splayed out; each were on a piece of wood, which gave the both of them the notion of their father being a hunter/collector of some sort. All of the Goblins that they passed neither turned to look at them or said a word in acknowledgement—it was almost like they had been told to not stop their progress or something. The only one who stopped their progress was a woman, who looked somewhat similar to their father—she had teal-colored skin; small, circular-shaped eyes, that were a bright silver color; and long, jet-black hair. This woman looked at them, then said something to their father, then moved off; Hazaar was fast in knocking his elbow into his brother's ribs after she did so—though the two knew who the woman was, Lhaklar had still had the urge to check her out.

Despite the two issues that were encountered earlier, TazirVile was marvelously impressed with how his two sons had behaved themselves; he figured that he had taken care of any transgressions between he and his sons well while in the room. The Goblins standing around the two boys thought the same thing. Their thoughts on this were automatically retracted after they entered the room that they were escorting the boys to; Hazaar plain refused to do what his father had said for him to do, which was for him to remove his clothes and then get ready to get on the table that was in the room's center. Though he understood the reason on why the boy didn't want to do as he was told, their employer still gave him four, well-meaning, spanks then snapped at him when he continued to disobey him.

Quite surprisingly, it wasn't their employer who got the wayward boy under control—it was Lhaklar. Lhaklar told his brother to do as he was told to do then took him to "the side" for a small chat; Hazaar did as he was told to do after that "private" talk was done.

"Lhaklar," TazirVile said as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "I appreciate the help, but I have this."

"Should we put the straps on him after he enters to table, sir?" Homsi asked. Hazaar was standing nearby; he had taken everything but his underwear off. He looked quite uncomfortable.

"If he struggles, yes." TazirVile said as he went towards the boy. Hazaar ducked away from him, then tried to run away from him. He didn't get but so far; TazirVile grabbed him by the arm then picked him up. He placed him on the table quickly.

All hell broke loose after the glass-dome doors of the table, which was a more than a state-of-the-art piece of equipment, and which was more than up-to-date on certain protocols on how certain injuries were treated, were snapped in place. Hazaar started flopping all over the place inside the table; his father snapped at him to quit it, then he turned in the direction of his firstborn son, who was yelling for his brother to stop. TazirVile told his son to pipe down once before turning his attention back to the table-contained boy, who was now trying to punch his way out of the table; Homsi and Eldass grabbed Lhaklar after he took a step towards the table, TazirVile was fast in pressing the button that'd give the table the command to administer both the pain reliever and the calming agent at that precise moment. Another button was pressed after the boy calmed down; four, red-colored, elastic bands wrapped around the boy's arms, upper and lower torso, and legs right after that button was pressed. Only after the bands were in place did the table get its command to heal the injuries of its patient.

The arms that swept down from the gratings in the table's glass dome doors evaluated Hazaar and his injuries first before going to work; when the lasers hit the injury that he had on his right leg, he neither yelled in pain or tried to struggle against the bonds that kept him fast to the table's cushion. The two arms that fixed the injury on his leg worked quickly; it only took two minutes before the injury was gone. The injury to his stomach, on the other hand, took a full five minutes before being healed to not require bandaging.

 _Beep! No Further Injuries Detected_

After seeing this appear on the table's medical screen, TazirVile nodded his head; he pressed five buttons quickly then waited for the final part of his son's tenure on the table to be over with. A green light shone over Hazaar's body—it swept up, down, and then around him before the sound of the seal on the dome doors being released was heard. When the doors swung down, and the elastic bands lifted from him, he wasted not a second in rolling from the table. After colliding with the floor, then giving a single groan, he stood then faced the man who was manning the table's controls—though the man had a serious look to his face there was no mistaking the chuckle that was hidden in his eyes.

"Go get dressed," TazirVile said to Hazaar, he then turned to Lhaklar. "Your turn."

With what just happened between Hazaar and the table, TazirVile kept a wary eye on his son, who was standing in one of the room's corners all by himself—he was doing as he had been told to do, which he was relieved to see, but he still looked to be quite tense, which he didn't much like.

Lhaklar, though slow, did as he was told without throwing any lip or giving any fusses; his clothes were removed, then he approached the table, then he got on the cushion mat. When the table's glass dome doors swung shut, he held his breath; a few commands were issued from the command panel then he stood by—the index, middle, and ring fingers of his left hand were hovered over the buttons that went to the commands that'd tell the table to administer the pain reliever, the calming agent, and that'd place the restraining bands to the patient that was waiting for treatment. As it turned out, he only needed to press one of them buttons—Lhaklar fought the pain as best he could as the table's arms removed the soggy bandaging from his arm, then started laser-treating the burns that were on that arm; he had just broke out in a sweat when the prick to his neck was felt. All pain left him right after that prick was felt; he simply lay on the table after that prick was felt.

The table's mechanical arms worked quickly and quietly; they swept up, over, and then under his arm. They healed all but three of the burns that he had to his arm before moving on to work on the burned area that was on his right shoulder—this injury of his had come from the acid that his father had thrown on him earlier that day.

When his shoulder was healed, the arms disappeared into the grating of the dome doors; his father, who looked to be marvelously happy with how he had composed himself during the session on the table, pressed a few buttons on the panel that was connected to something that looked very similar to a computer screen then stood by. Like with Hazaar, a green light showered all over him; once the light stopped being seen, the seal on the doors was released.

The doors swung down; Lhaklar rolled off the table then went towards the clothing that he had been wearing—just before going towards the table, he had paid special attention in sliding his pocketknife and cigarette case underneath one of the room's cabinets. He donned his clothes, then slid his hidden items back into their respective places, then went and stood beside his brother—though still a little on the stiff side, he was glad to note that all of his aches and pains were gone. He felt as fine as rain.

His father, he was quick to note, was looking at the table's computer-like screen; he looked to have a very keen interest in what was being shown on the screen. He wondered for only two seconds what he was so interested in before deciding to keep himself firm to the idea of getting himself and his brother from the vessel that they were in and then back home.

 _Medical Chamber 1A Injury Assessment  
_ _Patient: Surfeit, LhaklarVile Closhu  
_ _Time: 11:59:34 a.m._

 _Patient's Age: 2,100 years  
_ _Patient's Height: 6'1"  
_ _Patient's Weight: 180 lbs  
_ _Patient's B. Type: Athletic, no body mass fat detected  
_ _Brain Activity Assessment: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Lung Health Assessment: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Heart Rate Assessment: Normal  
_ _Physical Defects: None, table could find none on body  
_ _Injury Assessment: Injury to left arm; high-level first and second degree burns, repaired. Injury to right shoulder; second degree burn noted, repaired._

Working fast, not wanting his sons to get but so antsy over the wait, and wanting to get them back to the chamber that they had previously been in as quickly as possible, TazirVile pulled the results for Lhaklar's lung scan up. He was automatically amazed over the results—there was no damage at all on his lungs, and his heart was very healthy; he was fast in coming up with the idea that his son had just picked up the habit of smoking after the results of the scan were shown to him. Really, the whole results from the physical surprised him; his son, though possessing a very trim, and athletic, build, was appropriately weighted for one his age.

The muscle that his son possessed was what shocked him the most—Lhaklar was in his mid-teenage years yet he had a body that looked almost identical to his. The muscle that was on his son's back was ample, but decently rolling; he had a firmly toned six-pack on his abs and his chest was very nicely sculpted. To him, Lhaklar's arms and legs had the appropriate amount of muscle on them. His son looked strong, yes, but he did have to admit that he was a bit too tall for his age—he, himself, hadn't reached his full height until he had hit two thousand, four hundred years of age.

TazirVile made a copy of the physical then went on to look at Hazaar's results.

 _Medical Chamber 1A Injury Assessment  
_ _Patient: Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair  
_ _Time: 11:54:05 a.m._

 _Patient's Age: 1,700 years  
_ _Patient's Height: 5'11"  
_ _Patient's Weight: 175 lbs  
_ _Patient's B. Type: Lean, no fat detected  
_ _Brain Activity Assessment: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Lung Health Assessment: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Heart Rate Assessment: Normal  
_ _Physical Defects: None, table could find none on body  
_ _Injury Assessment: Right leg injury; the burn and hole, located just above the knee, looked to of been healed to having just the first layer of skin reappear. Injury to leg repaired. Injury to stomach; high-level first degree burn noted, repaired to require no further medical treatment._

Hazaar wasn't short by any means—at least to him he wasn't—and he was in perfect health. His lung scan showed a pair of healthy lungs, and his heart was also working as it should. There were no deformities at all on him.

Like with Lhaklar, he had been shocked over seeing the amount of muscle that his son had on him. Hazaar had one hell of a strongly built chest, and he had good muscle on his arms and legs; though the six-pack on his abs was less pronounced than his brother's, he had been able to see it and take note of its strength.

Hazaar was still growing; TazirVile guessed that he'd reach a height of six feet in the next hundred to two hundred years—Lhaklar, from what the exam had said, had stopped growing in height.

TazirVile made a copy of his secondborn son's physical exam; he folded both of the exams that had been done on the table, then placed them in the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, then turned towards his two sons. The first thing that came to his mind was to ask them about their habit of smoking—when they started; where they were getting them, or who they were getting them from; and, of course, if they had any on their persons. Before he could ask these very important questions, Eldass cleared his throat; the Goblin was fast in holding the magazine that he had taken up from the room's floor up to him, and he was fast in taking it from him.

"Now, I don't mind some light reading of this material." TazirVile said as he held the magazine out to his sons. Lhaklar took the magazine from him; he gave it to Hazaar, who not only snatched it from him but also shoved it under his shirt. "Smoking, though, I do mind that. You are both way too young to be smoking. Your lungs are much too undeveloped at your age to handle smoking." his sons looked at him like he had grown a second head; he was fast in staying firm on the issue that he was speaking to them about. "Which of you carries the smokes?"

"That would be me," Lhaklar stepped forward; he had a daring glint in his eye that his father was quick to note. "I don't smoke all the time, and I have none on me right now."

"So, if I searched your person, I'd find nothing on you?" TazirVile gave his son the all-knowing look; Lhaklar neither flinched or returned to his prior station.

"Search me if you feel that I'm not being truthful," Lhaklar said. "You'll find nothing but a pocketknife, a set of keys, and a wallet on my person."

He took his cue from that; TazirVile ran his hands over the clothing that was on his son's body slowly and carefully, so not to miss anything that may or may not be hidden on his son's person—Lhaklar was hiding the smile that wanted to spread across his face all while his father searched him. He was laughing—he had taken advantage of his father's attention being focused on the reading of the two pieces of paper that had come out from the room's printer; his cigarette case had been slipped to Hazaar, who was currently holding it behind his back.

Like his son had said, he found nothing more than a wallet, a set of keys, and a pocketknife on him. The wallet contained the usual items that one would find in it; he guessed that the keys went to the structure that Lhaklar, his brothers, and their mother were staying in; and the knife was nothing with which to be concerned about—he had one, and, when he had been Lhaklar's age, he had owned one. He let his son keep his knife—which had a medium redwood handle, and a four-inch long stainless steel blade, on it. TazirVile, sensing that he should also check Hazaar for items that he shouldn't have, gently pushed Lhaklar out of the way; he went to work on searching his secondborn son's clothing quietly after Lhaklar was out out the way.

Even though Hazaar was quiet, and accepting, of his search, he wasn't still—he slowly, carefully, and quietly gave the cigarette case to his brother, who was quick in shoving it down the back of his pants after receiving it.

Like with Lhaklar, TazirVile only found a wallet, a set of keys, and a pocketknife on Hazaar's person; the knife had a golden dragon handle on it, that looked to have a wing-shaped can opener on its back. The blade that was on the knife was four inches long, bronze in color, and very sharp. Though he found himself liking the knife, he contemplated confiscating it—at Hazaar's age, he hadn't been allowed to own, or possess, pocketknives.

After a few seconds of thinking this over, he relinquished the knife then stepped back. Hazaar was fast in stuffing the returned knife to the pocket that it had been taken from.

"There won't be anymore smoking between you two, hear me?" TazirVile said sternly. His two sons gave him equal, hard stares "You can keep the knives—just as long as you don't hurt yourselves, or someone else, with them—but there will be no more smoking between you two. Hear me, Boys?"

"Loud and clear." Lhaklar said.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear ya." Hazaar said. The fingers of his right hand, which was behind his back, were crossed.

"Good, now that you've been healed of your injuries, and have been examined, we can talk about your mother and Bile. For starters, where are they?" TazirVile asked his sons. When no response came to his question, he asked it again. "Where is your mother and Bile?"

"Knowing Bile, who was digging a hole under the house when we left to go to the spring, they're in China by now." Hazaar answered.

Lhaklar didn't laugh and neither did anyone else in the room; when his father stepped up to him, then looked him in the eye, he didn't lose his resolve or take any retreating steps back—he stared at him cold-center.

TazirVile asked his question twice more; he received two more wise-crack replies from Hazaar before deciding to give him a light tap on the hip—Hazaar lost his funny mood right after that tap was given. He lunged at his father, then swung his fist at him; Lhaklar grabbed him just after their father ducked the blow that was intended for him. He wasn't able to prevent their father from grabbing Hazaar's wrist, or from giving his brother four, well-meaning, spanks. Lhaklar's resolve melted right then and there; he swung his own fist at his father, then lunged at him after he ducked to avoid the hit that was meant for him. The next swing that he did struck home—before he could emit the cheer for his father's eye being temporarily shut he found himself gasping and then grabbing at his stomach.

His father, instead of swatting at his hip, or spanking him, had punched him in the stomach. Six, well-meaning spanks followed the given punch then he was thrown into the corner that Hazaar was all huddled up in.

Lhaklar, after recovering from the abuse that he had just been given, glared at his father—this action of his got him one of the worse slaps that he had ever experienced in his life.

"Hold him." a rather frustrated TazirVile, who had grown rather tired of his now-misbehaving sons' antics, said to two of the room's four Goblins.

In a lot of ways, he had expected for this to happen a long time ago. He and Hazaar had been pushing the man, and his various buttons, for nearly twenty minutes; up to now, none of their actions had gotten the reaction that he had imagined to happened.

Two of the four room-present Goblins came forward; he and his brother were separated then he was restrained, their father came forward to start the probing of his mind right after he was restrained. Even though he was restrained by the arms, he didn't struggle—during his tenure at the University of Telepathy he had been taught that one who struggled received more pain and distress during the mind-probing process; not only didn't he want to feel that pain and distress but he also didn't want to feel disoriented after the probing was done. Since he knew the various blocks and spells that one used to dispel an invader from their minds, he let his father probe his mind... but he didn't let him get but so far in his probing to find anything of what he was searching for.

He felt the sensation of his father going in—the banks, baskets, files, and other file-containing items were searched for only a few seconds before he used the first block to dispel him from his mind. His father shook his head, but continued on with the searching of his mind; two more blocks were done before he decided to say a spell.

"Pensieve!" Lhaklar said strongly.

TazirVile was cast out of his son's mind like a rubber ball; he had just reached a memory of the apartment where Lhaklar had come from when the spell was said. Lhaklar got to his feet in one, fluid motion then, in another, he flung Abevo and Losal from him; he was swinging his fist at Eldass, who was keeping his brother at bay in the corner, when he was grabbed from behind. He was twisted around, then held steady; again, he felt his father seeping into his mind again—like with the first time, he didn't struggle to get away from him. He let his father enter. He let his father do his searching then, just as he was about to look into the memory of him leaving the apartment to go to the hot spring, he said the spell again. TazirVile shook his head, then blinked his eyes, then went in again for another try. Lhaklar's head was spinning now; he felt dizzy from the constant trespassing of his mind and he was starting to get a wee bit angry at the one who was still trying to search him.

His father was able to get past all of his blocks, and was able to see one of his memories—the one of Bile sitting on the Laz-Y-Boy—, before the next spell was said. Before his father could tune in, and listen to what was said in the memory, he said the spell—this one, instead of just expelling his father from his memory banks, would both expel his father from his memory banks AND keep him out for an hour.

"Impus pati!"

"You went to the University of Telepathy, didn't you?" TazirVile asked after giving his head a good shake. "Only one who has knows of them spells."

"I might of gone for a few hundred years." Lhaklar said.

"Good to see that your education wasn't neglected." TazirVile said. He nodded at Abevo and Losal, then had them move his firstborn over to the side; with Lhaklar at a safe distance, he went towards Hazaar. "I do hate doing this—I'd not invade your minds, or look into the memories of your pasts, if you two would just tell me what I want to know."

Eldass and Homsi took Hazaar by the arms just before their employer started in on trying to find where Bile and his mother were; at first, they thought that the younger boy was going to put up a struggle but, to their extreme surprise, he neither put up a squawk or fought them after they restrained him. If their employer hadn't been in need of keeping himself centered on the task at hand, and wasn't so busy in looking for answers on where his wife and adopted son were, he would of wondered why the boy was being so calm; as it was, the boy's calmness was causing all three of them to not be as ready for anything that may or may not happen in the imminent future.

TazirVile was able to see two memories; the first was of his son leaving an apartment of some sort—Hazaar was fast in saying _Pensieve_ right after he locked onto that memory—and the second was of his son talking to the youth that he had seen on Zeta Ren—before he was able to hear a name, his son yelled out another spell to dispel him from his mind. TazirVile shook his head to clear his mind then went in again; the blocks that his son put up were swiftly passed, as were the two walls. He didn't know if it was luck or plain bravery but, once again, he was cast out of his son's mind right after he latched onto the memory that he had recently been forbidden from seeing. With this final dispelling enacted, he grew very frustrated; when he went into his son's mind for the third consecutive time, he did so with such force that Hazaar groaned. He went right back to the memory that he wanted to see; just before he was able to listen to the conversation that was spoken between the two boys, Hazaar ripped his arms from Homsi and Eldass.

"Reducit eu!" Hazaar yelled. He shoved his father back after he dispelled him from his memory banks then he started running; he grabbed Lhaklar just before he exited the room.

Freedom from the room was both great and very short lived; they found that the table had done wonders in healing them up—no pains were felt, and Hazaar's limp was completely gone—so they were able to run without having anything physical-wise taxing them down... unfortunately, they weren't able to test the full scope of their physical selves before finding the brakes needing to be applied. The hallway that the room was on was empty of people, yes, but the one that branched off it had a few people on it; they managed to dodge these people, and the people that were on the next two hallways, before finding themselves having to put a stop to their attempt to gaining freedom.

Hazaar had just flattened him to the wall when the brakes were applied; their grandfather, Cheshire, looked at them for only a second before coming forward to claim them. They turned, then went back the way they had come. Thanks to his having gone far enough to get his legs untangled, he was able to get past Hazaar and reach the branching hallway's end first. He had no more made the turn onto the next hallway when the brakes were, once again, applied—their father stopped in his tracks, then uttered a shaky sigh, the second he saw them.

Their father wasted not a second in coming towards them, or in grabbing them by the shoulder. He shoved them back down the hallways that they had run through then he pushed them into the room that they had been in before they were taken to the medical chamber. Not a word between he or they was said all during this process.

"I'm not only thoroughly angered by your attempt in escaping this vessel but also surprised that both of you know the spells to stop one from looking into the mind of another." TazirVile said after they entered the room. "Hazaar, did you also go to the University of Telepathy or did your brother do a big, bad no-no in teaching you himself?"

"He went—"

"I wasn't asking you, Lhaklar." TazirVile was fast in interrupting his firstborn. "Hazaar, was it your brother who taught you or did you got to school to learn the three spells that you used on me?"

"What's the big deal if he taught me or if I went to the school?" Hazaar asked.

"It's a big deal—it's against the law for one to teach such extreme lessons. One who learns the art of Telepathy and Telekinesis from one whose inadequately educated to teach them things can well be hurt mentally as well as physically." TazirVile responded. "So, is your question to mine an answer? Did your brother teach you himself?"

"No, I went to the University of Telepathy. Went the same time as he." Hazaar replied. He purposely left the little fact of their younger brother, Lazeer, being enrolled in the school at the same time out; Lhaklar sighed at this silently.

TazirVile concealed his relief in knowing that his two sons had gone and gotten an education in Telekinesis and Telepathy until after he asked where the University of Telepathy was located—it was one of the oldest schools in the Zeta Reticuli system and it just so happened to be located on the smaller of the three moons that orbited Zeta Looviniari. When his sons confirmed where it was, and that it was a tall, white structure that looked similar to both a castle and a university, he let his relief in their getting an education out.

He went over to one of the room's wicker chairs then sat down; he said for Lhaklar and Hazaar to sit on the room's couch afterwards, which the two of them did obediently and quickly. With themselves seated, comfortable, and calm, he set to asking a few things about them.

According to Lhaklar, who did most of the talking, they both had an education at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic—they had full-term diplomas—and they had done several extra curricular activities—these weren't disclosed. Bile was also said to be a full-term graduate at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic—the mention of a track record being broke by his adopted son was made before all talk on all extra curricular courses was dropped. He let his firstborn talk for a while before asking for him to let Hazaar take over in talking for a while—his firstborn son was reluctant to do this at first before going on to handing the torch over.

To him, it seemed like the two of them were hiding something from him; he both wanted and needed to know what that something was so, when Hazaar said nothing when his turn came around, he pressed him in another subject—something that might get him to lighten up and something that might also trick him into talking more freely.

"You're at that pivotal age where you're angry a lot, aren't you?"

"According to mom, yeah." Hazaar replied.

"Normal—bet your brother went through a similar phase when he was your age."

"Uhhhh... yeah and no. His was a bit more destructive." Hazaar said. Lhaklar snickered, then dropped his head.

"Destructive?" TazirVile asked.

"Yeah—he broke four kitchen tables, three chairs, and he also had it out for our old residence's front and back doors. From what I was told, he kicked both the front and the back doors completely off their hinges."

"Sounds like something that I did on the latter one." TazirVile said. "Only difference was that I ran into the doors of my old, childhood home instead of kicking them out."

"Thanks to Bile's habit of turning on the walls, mom had to do a lot of wall puttying." Hazaar said. "Her girlfriend got more than red in the face after seeing all them nice holes in the walls."

"Lets can the boyfriend/girlfriend thing," TazirVile said. "I highly doubt if your mother's seeing anyone."

"Damn, thought I'd get ya on that one."

"So, what all did Bile do when he was going through that temper stage?" TazirVile asked.

"Super destructive. Scary destructive." Lhaklar replied before his brother could.

"Hazaar, tell me now how destructive he was." TazirVile gave his firstborn a you-hush look.

"Broke four windows, punched several holes in the walls, flipped the sofa over for no reason..." Hazaar thought hard about his older brother slapping four glasses from the kitchen counter; after a few seconds of thinking, he watered it down some. "He also slapped four glasses—of the glass kind, not the plastic—from the kitchen counter. Mom got out of the way quick on that one."

"That sounds quite a lot like my brother and nephew—Bile's father—on that latter one." TazirVile said.

With his sons looking to be both calm and cool with him, he cut to the chase in asking them who the fellow that he had seen Hazaar talking to in that one memory was. Both of his sons were silent for a while, which prompted him to ask again; when they didn't answer again he just sat back and waited.

The air in the room had gotten muggy with the asking of that one question so he knew that it was that that they had been keeping from him. With the air quality being detected, and with his sons looking indecisive on how to reply to his question, he decided to get up and leave the room for a few minutes.

His mother and Cheshire asked if everything was going well when they saw him; he said that things were fine then he went to the kitchen. He retrieved two bowls from one of the kitchen cabinets; they were half-filled with mango slices, a dollop of whipped cream was placed over them just before he left the room.

Upon entering the room that his sons were in, he saw that they had gotten up and had walked around during his absence. He set the bowls of fruit down, then asked for his sons to sit down on the couch, then waited until after they were done in eating what he had given them before seeing if they'd answer a variant of the question that he wanted an answer to.

"So, was it another male that fathered that one fellow—Reezal?" he asked. "Who is he?"

"Our brother." Lhaklar blurted.

"Thank you, Lhaklar. I figured that he was related." TazirVile was, yet again, annoyed over the fact that his firstborn had answered him and not his secondborn. "Let's get something straight here, Boys. I have no intention of breaking you or any of your siblings from one another and I have no intention of making your mother give up any offspring that she's had between 2499 and now. I, as both a concerned parent, and spouse, need to know who that one fellow is and who his father is."

"Can't really call him our brother, or mine for that matter." Hazaar said. TazirVile leaned forward slightly; he was waiting for more. "He's his son."

"Pardon me?" TazirVile gasped. Lhaklar gave his brother a weird look. "You're fibbing me, right? Pulling my leg... trying to get under my skin? You're not being serious, right? Lhaklar is much too young to be a father. He's only two thousand, one hundred years old!"

"We have no idea who his father is." Hazaar said. "He was in a basket on our doorstep one day. I say he's Lhaklar's son but—"

"You're full of shit, Hazaar." Lhaklar said as he shook his head miserably. "He's our brother, that's all we're telling you."

A few more minutes of talk on the Reezal-boy—as their father called him—happened before their father decided to leave the room for good. He and his brother sighed warily after he left; with all that they had gone through in the last near half-hour, they really wanted to go home and see their mother and brothers. They got up from the couch then went straight to the room's top-right corner, where it looked like a viable satellite signal was located.

His communicator had been accidentally left behind in the room's adjacent bathroom; not only had he found it by the sink basin, where he had left it nearly thirty minutes ago, but he had also found that it was nearly dead. His communicator sometimes had a mind of its own—it'd lose its charge right after the initiate button was pressed, or it wouldn't work after it was charged, or, sometimes, it'd go dead right after he took it from the wall outlet—and he had a "famous" habit of not keeping it charged; he was clinging to the hope that it'd work so they could contact their mother and then get out of the situation that they had found themselves in.

"Mom? Lazeer? Bile? Anyone at the apartment?" he asked after pressing the initiate button down. All he heard was static, so he tried again. "I repeat, is anyone at the apartment? Mom? Lazeer? Bi—"

"Lhaklar! Where in blue blazes are you and Hazaar?" their mother's voice came through the communicator speaker loud and clear. "I come home for lunch and you're both missing, where are you two?"

"Mom... I went out to the hot spring—y'know, to get some relief from my aches and pains. I was there for an hour before deciding to head for home—Hazaar appeared in the area right when I was getting out of the spring." he swallowed twice before going on. "w-we were caught by dad. We're being held as prisoners in his ship."

"I have a feeling that she's pissed." Hazaar said after no replies to his brother's relayed statement occurred.

"Mom? D-did you—"

"You both deliberately disobeyed me and got yourselves in a pickle!" their mother exclaimed. "I take it that you two thought you'd call me, or get Lazeer on the horn, and then be let off the hook, or have the pickle that you're both in be overlooked? Lhaklar! You know better!"

"Yes, mother. I do and I'm sorry." Lhaklar swallowed hard; his knees were shaking now. "Mom, pl—"

"I should leave your asses on that ship... teach you both a good lesson on how to obey me!" their mother exclaimed. "I have to go back to work in twenty minutes—you know what Charles will do, or say, if I don't come in? I'm fired—we're sunk! No bills paid, no food in the cabinets or fridge, your brother won't get his glass..."

"Mother..." Lhaklar was deathly close to crying; he didn't like hurting or making his mother get upset anymore than his brothers did—he loved his mother so much that it was killing him to hear her talk in the way that she was. "I'm s—"

"You two best kiss your asses goodbye because, once I'm there, and once I've freed you both, their grass. You hear me, Young Man?"

"Yes mom, I—"

"This is so irresponsible of you, Lhaklar! You've done stupid things in the past—this one takes the cake, and then some." their mother began ranting; Lhaklar responded by looking at his feet. What she said next made him go cold. "Lazeer's coming with me—you two hang tight until we get there. When you get home you both go to your rooms—and you better damn stay there until I get home from work! You know what happens if you don't."

"Dish toweling of the bad sort." Lhaklar said.

"I'm mad enough to wail on you both with a stick!" their mother said. The communicator went dead right then and there, so they weren't able to hear anything further of what their mother said, which gave them further cause for concern.

"Not a stick!" Hazaar wailed. "Anything but that!"

"I think I'm going...oh yes I am—out of my way!" Lhaklar clamped his hand over his mouth then ran for the bathroom.


	28. Chapter 28

"So, other than taking care of their injuries, did you do a physical on them?" Cyla asked. "Or did you decide to skip it, like I believe you did."

"A physical was done on them," TazirVile replied. "Both are as healthy as an OvraOx."

"They look very healthy," Ashaklar said of her two grandsons, who were seated across from her at the table. "When they get to being older, they'll make for some very handsome men."

Eating was the last thing that Lhaklar had on his mind; with it just being ten minutes past his getting sick after hearing how mad his mother was, he just didn't want to eat anything—but he found himself having to do it anyway. It was either he eat or he run the risk of having someone ask if he was okay—and, of course, gain the "concern" and wrath of the man who was his paternal grandfather and the woman that he was married to.

Hazaar was right beside him; while he was eating, he wasn't doing so out of hunger or pure want. He was doing as he was in forcing himself to eat—this task, for him, was difficult, seeing as there were people around him who he didn't know and who he didn't trust.

Their father had let them be for only ten minutes before returning; he had told them that they had family who wanted to see them, then he had said for them to be on their "best behavior", then he had escorted them down the hallway that the room that they had been put in was on. He had said not a word to them during the whole walk—this had made the both of them be a bit on edge; with "the family" wanting to see them, they had figured that he'd say more than a single command before going as quiet as a cockroach on them.

An army of men, women, and children had been waiting in "earnest" for them in the dining room; between being thrown from one person to the next, and being "examined" by everyone who had insisted on handling them, introductions had been made. Naturally, they had acted out a bit after seeing the man who was their mother's, and older brother's, father; Master Vile, as the bastard called himself, had taken a few at-the-distance looks at them before rolling his eyes and then saying under his breath _she left the M-51 Galaxy for them two malformed brats_ —both of them had heard this, and they had both reacted to it, which had garnered two spanks a-piece from their father.

After the throw-around routine, and the examinations, were done he and Hazaar had been told to sit at the table; all sorts of trays, bowls, platters, plates, eating utensils, and baskets were brought in while everyone else was taking a place at the table. Their father was at the head of the table; they were to his left while their sister—Eshal—was to his right. The women were, naturally, the first ones to spark up a conversation on them. It was all, their so cute, they'll be handsome men when they get older, did you run a physical exam on them, and other related junk that the both of them had closed themselves up to. The men were conversating a little better than the women—it seemed that a lot of the men were concerned over their physical and mental growth and their education; their grandfather, DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, had quite a hot mouth on him that was starting to get to Hazaar. The man seemed to not have a good thing to say about them, or their father, for that matter. Both of them had a feeling that this meal was going to be one of the longest attended meals in their lives; they wished that their mother would hurry up because they wanted to be out and away from the ship and from the people that were in it.

"I think Hazaar is very cute," Uevaa said again—this was the third time that she had said this; Hazaar was growing increasingly annoyed with her, but he suppressed his annoyance by simply cramming a sausage roll into his mouth.

"Are you sure that Hazaar is healthy?" Irka asked. "Sudir is taller than he is... and he was taller than he was at his age as well."

"So was Selik." Cyla said.

"His physical results say that he's one hundred percent healthy," TazirVile said. "He's not sh—"

"Was the physical done by an actual doctor?" Cyla asked. She didn't wait for an answer; she was fast in launching a sort of insult towards their father. "If I've told you once I've told you a million times that doctors are better than them automated medical tables—they see things that them tables miss, they are better in treating injuries, and they're just plain better. Get a doctor on them as soon as we're done with this meal—that way you'll know for sure if they're truly healthy or not." after saying this, she said something pertaining to Hazaar. "To me, Hazaar does look right stunted for his age."

"Look right hot over there, babe." Hazaar said.

"Pardon me, Hazaar, but this is an adult conversation." Cyla said. "You eat. We talk."

"Lady mustn't like compliments." Hazaar said. Lhaklar reacted by elbowing him in the side; he told him to eat before going on to doing so himself.

"Lhaklar looks stunted for his age as well. What did his results say? To me, he looks _too_ thin." Irka said.

"Results came back saying that he's in fine health—even the results from the scan that I did on his lungs came back as saying that they're in fine health. No damage was noted on them." TazirVile replied. "There's not an ounce of fat on him—he's very well muscled."

"He really _should_ have some fat on him," Irka said. "Vile wasn't but so muscled when he was his age."

"I was rail-thin up to one thousand, five hundred, and twenty years of age." Master Vile said. "Since the subject's been brought up, I'll admit that Bile's much too big for his age. He's still a boy yet he has a man's body—that's not good for one his age."

"The one who likes thrusting his nails into women's stomach cavities must be jealous." Lhaklar said. After saying this, he made a comment on what had been said about him and his body. "I've been this way for years and I'm damn proud of my appearance, thank you very much."

"You might be "proud" of your appearance now but you won't be in a few hundred years, after your second and then third growth spurts kick in." Master Vile responded to Lhaklar's comment before going on to speaking of Hazaar. "As for Hazaar, and his height, I was five foot, nine inches at eleven hundred years of age. By the time I reached his age, I was six foot, one and a half inches—and I was still growing."

"He's not lying—he didn't reach his full height until after his mid-two thousands." Irka said. "You're both pushing yourselves too hard to—"

"You make it sound like Bile and I took steroids or something to accelerate our growth, Lady." Lhaklar interrupted Irka. "We matured naturally... and we are still maturing naturally."

Irka was fast in giving Lhaklar a good lecture on how one of his age shouldn't interrupt their elders; she was equally fast at the end of her given lecture on getting on him, and Bile, about how "above schedule" they were on both their physical growths and on their activities—it surprised neither he nor his brother about her knowing about how he and Bile were hunting. When she started in on insulting their mother on how she raised them, and Bile, the two of them found it very hard to not bite her head off—she said that their mother was irresponsible for letting them hunt, and for letting them gain the bodies that they had, and for letting them smoke and walk around unsupervised. By the time Irka had finished her attack on their mother, Lhaklar's cap was near to exploding—the hand that was clamped over Hazaar's wrist was the only thing keeping his brother from verbally attacking the woman.

Lhaklar checked his internal clock after the woman's attack on their mother was done and over with; it said that he and Hazaar had last heard from their mother fifteen minutes ago—which seemed too long to the both of them.

The room that they were in was silent for a short while before the big, mountain of muscle that was their uncle—KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit—cleared his throat.

"So, were their educations neglected like we all think they were?" he asked. Lhaklar's eyes blinked rapidly; Hazaar was fast in looking at his uncle.

"I can safely say that neither of my boys have had their educations neglected." TazirVile replied. "When I was probing their minds to find where their mother, Bile, and that Reezal boy were, they used the learned techniques and spells that one can only learn while being a student at the University of Telepathy."

"That's... surprising. Glad to see that Angel didn't neglect that on the boys." KurukVile said.

"Anything else?" Master Vile asked.

"From what I was told, all three of the boys—Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar—went to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. Though he didn't specify on when they graduated from the University of Telepathy, Lhaklar did say that he, and Hazaar, went to the school for a few hundred years." TazirVile responded to the question that had just been asked. "A mint-green birdie told me that Bile broke a record in track when he went to Pronghorn."

"You'll have to look up their records then," Irka said. She then did a mild correction of what she had just said. "You and Vile need to take a real, good look into their enrollment in both schools—the dates on their forms, any records that they made, their grades..."

"I have plans to do that." TazirVile said.

Lhaklar and Hazaar sustained the laughs that wanted to come out—if their father _did_ look for their records at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, and at the University of Telepathy, he'd have to look up a different name for them as they, and their two brothers, had been enrolled at the schools under different names. It had been their mother's idea to enroll them with their names—both the first, the middle, and the last—spelled backwards; she hadn't had a desire for them, or their schooling, to be bothered by their fathers—the surprising part? No one had ever questioned, or even noticed, who they really were.

During his tenure at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, and then the University of Telepathy, he had gone by the name of Ralkalh Uhsolc Tiefrus; Hazaar had gone by the name of Raazah Rialt Tiefrus, Lazeer had gone by the name of Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus, and Bile had gone by the name of Elib Eliv during their schooling days. Not a single person had connected the dots, or even thought about reading the names backwards; they're schooling days had gone well... no one had so much as bothered them.

Neither of them said a thing of this to their father or to anyone else at the table; they kept this piece of information to themselves. They went on eating.

"So, you two listen to the crap that the humans put out and listen to or are you both on my brother's side when it comes to music tastes?" Efagti asked.

Lhaklar looked up and then over at his father slowly; he hadn't listened to classical music since his mother had taken him and his brothers to a safer location and he was damn glad for that. He had grown distant from piano, trombone, violin, saxophone, and trumpet-type music a long time ago; the music that he had grown a particular interest in was of the R&B sort—Nat "King" Cole, Charles Brown, B.B. King, Little Richard, Little Walter, Chuck Berry, Ray Charles, and Bo Diddley, to name only a few. He just about drove Bile insane when it came time for him to listen to some music—he'd just slip in a Charles Brown, or a Ray Charles, or even a Little Walter disc into their shared boombox then he'd simply sit back, listen, and watch as his brother did his crazy antics in trying to make the noise, as he called it, go away.

According to Bile, his style of music was going to rott him and his brain—at least it was better than Hazaar's genre of music. Hazaar liked to listen to rap—which just about made his inner ears want to pop out the white flags of surrender. To him, Hazaar's music interest was nothing but noise—all noise, with little to no audible words... and it also had too much damn drum action in it! His brother's brand of music almost sounded like someone was banging their partner a little too hard on the other side of the wall.

"I've not listened to classical in years, more into R&B now." Lhaklar truthfully replied.

"Yuck!" Efagti made a face.

"Isn't Etta James an R&B singer?" Eshal asked.

"Yes! She's the matriarch of R&B!" Lhaklar exclaimed.

"You and I have similar tastes then." Eshal said. "What about you, BroSis?"

"Rap," Lhaklar replied for his brother, who was glaring at Eshal. Their sister merely smiled at him—seeing her smiling at Hazaar in the way that she was nearly made the both of them hurl. "He's into the stuff that's nothing but noise."

"Think we need to get Hazzy on a better trend of music," Ashaklar said. "I've heard that stuff myself—it's nothing but junk. It's something that a junky would listen to."

"It is not!" Hazaar exclaimed. Lhaklar reacted by reaching over to tap his elbow. "Least it's better than that country shit that's played on the radio from time to time. I just about die after hearing anything that Johnny Cash made."

"I'm okay with country as long as it's good country." Ashaklar replied. "More of a classical music listener myself."

"So, what does Bile listen to?"

The question that had just been asked had come from one of their aunts; ZajraVile Ghifli Surfeit was her name—she was shorter than Hazaar! The petite form matched the five foot, three physique; her skin was light tan in color while her hair was a deep purple color—to the surprise of both of them, she had a ring of dark brown hair, or fur or whatever it was, around her waist. The pair of elongated ears, which were very barely sticking out from the sides of her head, made it so that they identified her as being related to them. Her eyes and ears were peach-colored; she had a little bit of makeup on her face. The pink and purple, tie-die blouse, knee-high blue jean shorts, and purple platform shoes did very little to make her appearance look less than plain—it was rude of them to think of her as being plain in accord to everyone else but, yeah, they thought that she was a very plain individual.

Their mother had told them a few things about each of the people who had been photographed by Bile on September 8; one of the things that she had told them about Zajra was that she liked the same sex in a partner—it did look like what they had been told was true because, sitting beside her was her partner, who was of her exact gender. The woman, who had black-cloven hands, but seemingly normal-looking feet, had long, white fur rolling down the sides of her head and neck. They presumed that the woman's body, which was a little on the plump side, was also covered in the same fur. She was wearing a pair of black tights, a light blue blouse, that looked to have more than enough glitter and embroidery on it, and blue shoes.

Thanks to their mother, they knew what the woman's name was—Poa—, and, thanks to their mother, they also knew that both she and Zajra were right close to one another.

"That's one of my daughters," DuruVile said after taking notice of the long stares that they were giving to Zajra and her companion. "She was born through my fourth marriage to—"

"Kovina, we know." Lhaklar said.

Unless it was absolutely needed or called for, DuruVile was one who absolutely hated being interrupted and he was also one who was known to be very keen on straightening the one who had interrupted him. Gaajah gave his father a wary side-glance before hunching his shoulders—he knew what was about to happen and he was hoping that it would all be directed at Lhaklar and not at him.

"You was given a lecture earlier on how not to interrupt your elders, I do hope that you don't need another one." DuruVile said.

"Hazaar, Lhaklar's talked enough for the moment, why don't you answer your aunt's question." TazirVile said. Hazaar was fast in keeping his trap shut; it was Lhaklar who answered Zajra's question.

"Anything loud, noisy, and that makes the walls rattle."

"Thank you, Hazaar." TazirVile said. He rolled the fingers of his left hand over his brow; he was, once again, annoyed over the fact that Lhaklar had said something and not Hazaar.

"Lhaklar seems to be a bit of a chatter box," AraimeVile said. "Or is it that he just doesn't want Hazaar to say something that he shouldn't?"

It was said that the woman who had just spoken's full name was AraimeVile Elleve Surfeit and it had also been said that she was the older of their Uncle Kuruk's two full-sisters—while it was sometimes hard to tell what individual was older than the other in any specific family they knew that this was true. She wasn't very tall—she was an inch shorter than Hazaar—and she had bright blue eyes that glowed rather magnificently—the white pupils that were in their centers were very prominent, thanks to that glow. She had no ears on her head; the face that she had was very unemotional looking—this face of hers was bi-colored, like most of the other Surfeits at the table. The uniform colors of her face, and, they presumed, body, were dark silver and green.

It looked like another thing that their mother had told them on select individuals in their family was checked—it had been said that Araime wasn't married and it did look like that was true; there was no partner at all at her side. She was wearing a dark purple dress, that had light purple ties, buttons, and tassels on its front, sides, and back; the pumps that were on her feet were the same exact color as her dress.

The woman seated beside her was her and their uncle's younger, full-sister; AzvraVile Kila Surfeit looked like a combination of her mother, Cyla, and father. The small ears that she had were delicate in appearance and very barely stuck out from the sides of her head; they were dark blue in color and had a very thin, light blue stripe on them. Her skin was a shade darker than Hazaar's—she very nearly looked black! The eyes that looked out from her face were a glowing green color; the pupils that were in their centers were a very light yellow color. Azvra was wearing a skin-tight, dark gray dress that had a zipper on the sides; there were dark gray heels on her feet. Thanks to their mother, they also knew that this aunt of theirs was also single.

"Hazaar's going through that temper phase—I believe that he's not only trying to keep his brother from snapping at people but also that he's trying to keep him from blurting a certain something that needs to be known." TazirVile said.

"That other fellow?" AraimeVile speculated.

"Him and the location of their mother and Bile." TazirVile replied. "I've asked—I tried to search their memories and, so far, I've gotten no answers to what needs to be known."

"Order them to spill their secrets." DuruVile snapped. "Use a spell, or a potion or something. I would also like to know so we can get them off this planet and where they should be."

"Use all the damn spells and potions on us that you wish—we know the counter spells to cancel-out anything that you dish out at us." Lhaklar said strongly. DuruVile responded by slapping his hands to the table's surface; he stood up sharply then glared at his young grandson.

"You listen to me, Boy, and you listen closely. I didn't take any form of the mouth that you just used from your father, nor from any of his siblings, and I won't take it from any of my grandkids. Watch yourself."

"He's so scared that he's about to—"

TazirVile responded to his young son's outburst by reaching over and then giving the back of his head a light tap; when Lhaklar looked in his direction, he told him to pay attention to his plate and to stay out of what he did in regards to disciplining his brother. The man named ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, who was their great-grandfather, spoke up right after the small disciplinary move was made; he said that, if they were his sons, they would be having red mouths after mouthing off in the way that they had been since taking up their chairs at the table. The man, who their mother had said was right kind, understanding, and nice, seemed to have a right stern and strict side to him that they were both quick to notice.

Lhaklar checked his internal clock; nearly eighteen minutes had passed. He was starting to wonder if their mother was coming; he wondered if her curious absence was really a lesson in disguise—one of them types where Mother was teaching her non-behaving Sons how to behave and on when and how they were to obey her. He had just made a comment to what Shaam had said when his father cleared his throat; he looked at the man, shrugged his shoulders, then slid a spoonful of soup into his mouth. This soup, which had a consistency akin to porridge, and which had a odor to it that was very unappetizing, also had one of the worse tastes to it that he had ever experienced—he struggled to not throw what he had put in his mouth up for all of two seconds before choking it down.

His father waited until he had swallowed before slapping the back of his head. This move of his father's infuriated him so he, in return, glared at him—he was about to follow-up the glare with something verbal when his father's right hand assaulted the side of his face.

If it had been his mother who had slapped him instead, he would of had a very hard time in not tearing up; since it was a man who had dared to lay hand to his face, and since it was his father, a man who he very barely knew, who had delivered that given slap, he neither choked up or had a fight on his hands to keep the tears back. He got mad instead of emotional.

"You're doing right well in the disciplining department, Tazzy." Ashaklar said after the disciplining was done. "I'm surprised with how Lhaklar's acting—he _use_ to be a _very_ well-behaved boy."

"That's Angel coming out of him." Master Vile said. "I can just imagine how much Hazaar and my son have of her in them."

"So, do either of you have the ailments that your father has?" Cyla asked. Just the tone of her voice, and the way that she had asked this question, pissed Hazaar off.

"Neither of us have any "ailments"." Lhaklar replied, he then said under his breath, "Except for being in a room with a bunch of whacked out imbeciles."

"BroSis looks angry." Eshal said after noting that her younger brother's face had gotten a hard look to it.

"It's Hazaar you Imp, not BroSis!" Hazaar snapped.

TazirVile had just gotten up to reprimand his secondborn son for his word usage towards Eshal when, suddenly, the ship lurched. Everything became dark for just a second before a series of bright red lights started blinking on and off; a siren-like sound was heard for only ten seconds before the alarm that symbolized that the ship was being attacked came on. Their father, instead of asking for the women and children to leave the room and then find somewhere else that was much more stable, said for everyone to duck under the table. Lhaklar looked at Hazaar right when everyone did as their father had said for them to do; he nodded his head, then grabbed him by the shoulder, then stood up from his chair. A high kick to his father's chest sent his father reeling back; with his father now being splayed out on the room's floor, he and Hazaar took to the initiative in getting away from the room's occupants and to get out from the ship. They ran off together; their father got to his feet quickly then tore off in pursuit of them, his brother and father followed in his wake.

"No! Not _that_ way—this way!" Lhaklar shrieked after Hazaar started going down the left-side hallway that branched off the one that they had run into after exiting the dining room.

They ran down two hallways, then went around two corners, before stopping; the sounds of their pursuers were loud, yes, but they also sounded to be in another hallway from them—this gave them ample opportunity to check out their surroundings, and to pick a hallway to go down. There were three hallways branching off the one that they were currently on; he contemplated using his Telepathy for a few seconds before deciding to go down the one that was to the left of the other two. It took them just two seconds of going down this hallway before he placed his hand on the wall—a quick use of his Telepathy told him that they _were_ on the right hallway _and_ that they had _one_ more turn to go before reaching the airlock hatchway doors.

He had just relayed this information to his brother when the ship lurched again; a shower of sparks were thrown against them, he was thrown against his brother for only a second before finding himself kissing the carpet of the hallway. Hazaar wasted no time in grabbing him; he led the charge to the doors; two more lurchings happened, more sparks were thrown on them, Hazaar lost his footing for only a second before regaining it again... the sounds of their pursuers, all this while, had grown steadily louder so the two of them knew that they weren't that far from them.

Hazaar was thrown to the side of the wall after the ship lurched for the fifth time; he bounced from the wall, then did a sort of pirouette, then came very near to being captured, before taking to his heels again. They leaped over Homsi and Eldass—who had positioned themselves to stop their escape—then they ran on. They had just reached the hallway that the ship's main entrance/exit was on when they heard their father yelling for the doors to be jammed. There were quite a many of bright-glowing sparks flying from the airlock hatchway doors; they saw a small hole in the twin doors, and the line of fire that was going on on the carpet that was before the doors, before getting themselves prepared for the task that was about to be done.

They charged at the doors together, but it was Lhaklar who got to do the honor of punching the small, red button that was above the door's closed-off panel; he and his brother were practically clipping heels after the twin doors swung open after that button was punched. The doors, behind them, became jammed just before they slid to being mostly shut.

"Someone's in big trouble," Lazeer said two seconds after they collided with him. The three of them had tumbled down the ramp before stopping at the cold, hard ground that was at its base; all three of them were fast in getting to their feet after their tumbling action was done.

"Lazie? _You_ was the _one_ attacking the d—" Lhaklar stopped speaking after their father's gravelly-sounding voice was heard. The man, who seemed to be on the other side of the ship's doors, was shouting for the doors to be un-jammed so he could exit them. This prompted the three of them to flee from the ship. When they were halfway across the area that the ship was parked on, he said, "Where's mom?"

"On the ship." the youngest of his brother's replied.

Before they were able to exit the area that their father's ship was parked on, a rock-wall appeared in front and then all around them; he was fast in swinging his arm out at the wall before him right after it appeared—the lightning bolt that struck the wall was a moderate one, yes, but it did its intended purpose well in blasting a hole wide enough for them to run through. Once they were out of their very short-lived containment area, he chanced a look back; his pistachio-colored eyes went wide with disbelief for only a second before returning to their normal shape—what he saw was enough to make the motors in his legs to stop working. He had never seen such a sight before in his life and he bet his left arm and leg that his father, who had long since left his ship, and who had a strand of people flocking at his backside, had never seen it either.

The serpent that was wrapped around their father's ship couldn't be anyone other than their mother; the snake, Titanoboa, had been discovered on February, 5, 2009—it had been said to have a length of forty-two feet and it was also said to of weighed anywhere around twenty-five hundred pounds. This ancient snake, which had fed on the early forms that had come into being after the dinosaurs went extinct, was said to be a dweller of the planet's tropical areas where, in prehistoric times, the temperature had gone up into the ninety degree Fahrenheit range.

The snake that was around his father's ship had a resemblance to the other extinct forms that he and his mother were able to transform into; in comparison to the actual, once living and breathing animal, it was quite dull in color. The scales that were on the back, sides, and stomach were a plain red color while the stripes that were on its sides and back were a little darker red color; the eyes that looked out from the serpent's face were a dull green color.

Once he saw the snake, he turned his head back around; he started running faster. He had just made it to edge of the area when the rock-wall that had once tried to trap him and his brothers from progressing further was blasted to smithereens; neither he nor his two brothers looked behind them to see who was pursuing them or who was closer to them. They plowed on before the root, which had been produced by their great-grandfather, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, caused each and every one of them to trip. They landed hard on the ground, yelled or groaned their pains, then tried to get up; their feet had only just been returned to being underneath them when a clear shield appeared over them—their father, who was just as raging mad as a colony of bees that had just been disturbed in their combs, and who had only been five or so feet from them, reacted to the arrival of this shield hostily. He was zapped back after swinging his fist at the wall that was closest to him—this only caused him to grow angrier.

"Thank... Good... Ness!" Lhaklar breathed. "Safe and away from them freaks."

"We may be safe from them but we're not from Mom—the Titaness of Snakes." Hazaar said.

TazirVile, after hearing the characteristic hissing sounds that were procured from a snake, turned in the direction of his ship; his eyes came close to bursting from their sockets after he saw the immense, dull red snake, that looked to have striping on its sides and back that was both a darker red color and dull, uncoiling itself from the hull of his ship. His O-shaped mouth dropped low when the snake slithered down to the ground; his mouth was still dropped when he started attacking the thing, which was coming in his, and the kids', direction.

Green-colored air arrows, black fire, and a comet of golden fire were sent towards the snake; when those didn't deter the creature's path, he swung his hands down at the ground—a chunk of dirt and rock was risen and then thrown towards the snake, who simply barreled into it like it was nothing. A wall of rock was made before the snake after them attacks didn't work; the snake reacted in the exact same fashion as it had when he had thrown the chunk of dirt and rock at it. The rest of his family, Homsi, Eldass, and Losal all ran out from his ship just as the snake rumbled forward; the ground shook as the snake, who he guessed weighed a good, solid, two thousand plus pounds, ricocheted forward. Another wall of rock was made, which was smashed into bits by the fastly approaching serpent; he threw golden fire at it then he started throwing ground spears and missiles at it—none of these had the desired effect on the creature. Setting the creature on fire, then entrapping it in a cage of rock, was done next; the cage of rock was a very mild victory for him—even though it slowed the snake's progress it didn't stop it. The snake, with a single, twisting motion, made his cage of rock burst into a thousand pieces about ten seconds after it settled over it.

Like a speeding locomotive, the snake barreled past him then went into the shield that surrounded the three boys—two of whom he was fully aware of were his while the other he had yet to identify or connect the dots on.

"Oh shit! Lhaklar! Hazaar! Reezal! Get _out_ of _there_!" he shrieked after seeing that the snake was wrapping itself around the three boys.

Lhaklar neither said nor did anything as he watched his mother as she dropped the form that she had taken on; the snake was slow in growing smaller for only two seconds before the transformation was quickened. He, like his two brothers, was scared; just one look at them eyes that stared out from that slowly changing snake-head, that had a rounded tip to it, was enough to tell them that something was about to happen and that two of them were about to get more than a plain scolding.

Their father, who was obviously oblivious to what was going on in the shield, was yelling at them to run—they couldn't do that. If they up and ran from their mother, they'd be in even more shit than they currently were. Since there was nothing else to do at the moment, Lhaklar started counting the times that his father had struck him; before being taken to "lunch", he had been disciplined nine times—seven spanks, a punch to the stomach, and then a slap to the face had been given to him—and then he had been given two additional spanks just after reaching the dining room in his father's ship and then a tap to the back of his head and a slap to the face just before he and Hazaar had made their escape. Hazaar had been "disciplined" fifteen times—eleven spanks and a single tap to the hip had been given before they had been taken to have "lunch" with their "family" then two additional spanks, and then a slap to the back of his head, had been given after they had reached the table. It wouldn't surprise neither of them if they were about to get more on top of all of that.

Their father only "got a clue" on who was in the shield with them after their mother's transformation from snake to her true self was complete; the man, along with everyone who had followed him from the ship, circled the shield right after seeing who was in the shield with them. They started yelling at once, which only made the situation worse for them—they grew embarrassed, thanks to all of their yelling.

Lazeer was fast in getting out of their mother's path; only after being given the scoop on what was going on had he found out where his brothers were and what the plan was for them to be rescued. Their mother had yelled for him, had told him what was going on, then had "insisted" on his helping her on getting them out from their "pickle"—since the clouds were covering the sun, and since rain was being forecast to fall in the next hour to two hours time, he had been more than willing to help her. He had used his Acidic powers on the ship's airlock hatchway doors right after his mother started wrapping herself around the ship that his brothers had found themselves being "held hostage" in. He was a natural with his Acidic powers and he was damn proud of that—and he made damn sure to boast about this to his two full-brothers, who could also do this power, but who weren't as in-tune with it as he was, at any given opportunity.

Their mother's chest heaved up and down twice before she rushed at them; Lhaklar winced while Hazaar's breath caught in his throat right after they saw her coming for them.

"What did I say! I specifically told all of you to keep your asses in the shield and away from this area!" Angel screamed at her two, disobedient sons.

Lhaklar had nothing to say; he had only gone out to the hot spring to get some relief for his pain while Hazaar... well, according to him, he had only gone to the hot spring because he was "bored". If he would of said a thing about this to his mother she would of probably come back with more than a verbal chiding—he'd probably be given more than a slap to the face, or a punch to the stomach, or a spank or two... he might be going home sans the skin on his backside if he so much as disclosed his, and his brother's, reason on why they left the safety of the shield that surrounded Green River, Wyoming.

Lhaklar looked down at his feet for only a second before receiving a big surprise—his mother reeled her hand back then swung it forward; an eruption of pain occurred in his left cheek for only a second before it went numb. He fought to not cry for only two seconds; with his pride having just received a huge blow, he just couldn't help himself in not letting the tears flow. Just as two tears rolled down his cheeks, his mother turned on Hazaar; a similar blow to dealt to him.

"You two just caused the shield that's around Green River to have its spell removed," Angel yelled at her two crying, pride-lost, sons. "I'm thoroughly disgusted by your actions! Thoroughly! You both know better than to disobey me! Wh—"

"Mistress,"

When she turned around, she saw that one of the camp's many Goblins had entered the shield that she had put up as a way to both protect her sons and to gain a little bit of hands-off privacy while disciplining them; when she saw the Goblin, who was none other than her husband's Most Trusted Butler, she pounced. She drove the Goblin from the shield, then turned to go back to her sons, then found herself having to turn back to fend the Goblin off again after he re-entered her shield. This time, she sent a gold comet of fire at the man, who ran to avoid it; when she saw that that move of hers hadn't worked in getting the man to leave the shield and to not come back, she used one of her various Ground Elemental powers—the ground rose, then fell, then swayed back underneath the Goblin before, finally, it jerked up. Homsi K. Modulavich was sent sailing from the shield a second later.

Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer all dropped their mouths after seeing this brilliant display of Elemental power usage before snapping them shut; before their mother could approach them, then give them another round of chiding, another Goblin entered the shield. Their mother turned on this man, who had white hair, that was as fluffy as could be, like a wild cat; she sent darts of fire, then firecicles, at him before repeating the move that had cast Mr. Modulavich from the shield. Mr. Zultoa was thrown from the shield like a rag doll; he had no more landed on his back on the ground before Losal Khrelan rushed in—like with Mr. Modulavich and Mr. Zultoa, their mother was fast in sending him packing.

Their father, they all noticed, was giving orders to the Goblins who had exited his ship to enter the shield that was around them; three had entered and it looked like there were three others who were about to take their place. Zshon Zultoa and the Speelin brothers—Kalach and his younger brother, Abevo—ran into the shield as a force and they were sent packing as a force. The three of them had only just been sent from the shield when Homsi, Eldass, and Losal ran in—like with Zshon and the Speelin brothers, these three were also sent packing soon after they entered the area that their mother had designated as a "safe zone".

In all, it took ten minutes before the Goblins received the order to stand down; their father had no more put a halt to his attempts in trying to put a stop to their being mom-disciplined before their mother turned her attention back towards them.

"Get your asses home—I don't want to see either of you out of your rooms for the rest of the day." Angel said to Lhaklar and Hazaar. "Tomorrow, you're going to have a list of—"

"That's quite enough, Angel."

Like a raging volcano, their mother turned and then started attacking their uncle—the man, during the cease in action, had checked the ground around the shield to see if there were any parts to it that weren't solid. He had simply "drilled" himself under and then into the shield.

Uncle Kuruk was a much more threatening opponent; she had quite a fight on her hands just to dispel him from the shield. Their mother threw out countless comets of blue, yellow, red, and golden fire; she made the ground roll back and forth like an ocean wave; then she shot a black-colored tornado of air at the man—he was able to avoid all of this. With these attacks only just being finished in being done, the man charged forward; they yelled after seeing him rushing towards their mother then they got ready to protect her—their mother, soon after having the man's well-strong arms settle around her, proved to be able to take care of herself. Her entire body became engulfed in flames only long enough for their uncle to shout and then release her; with herself free of his grip, their mother shot a funnel of white fire at him, which damn near made him leap for the moon and back. A wall of red fire was sent towards the man next; the man responded by grabbing it, then forming it into a whip of sorts, then lashing it at their mother.

"No!" Lazeer shrieked.

The big, burly KurukVile, an uncle who they had only just met, but who they still didn't know all that well, used the whip that he had made out of their mother's attack against the closest shield-wall to him; Lazeer reacted by sending a stream of red acid at him. KurukVile had his back to him, so he was uncorrupted in this attack; when the red acid stream struck him, and caused the back of his rather expensive, black and gold tunic top to become non-existent, he turned to face him. He had just lashed the whip in his direction when a scream erupted from their mother—Lazeer's own scream was louder; once that flaming whip struck his chest, and opened a good-sized gash, that'd have the tell-tale burn signs to it in a few hours time, he couldn't help but let the scream out. A similar whip-based mark was given to his left hip right when his mother leaped between him and his uncle; the woman, who he looked at with such love and admiration, created two flaming whips after jumping between the two of them then started brandishing them. She had only just swung them out when his burly-bodied uncle dropped the whip that he had in his hand.

"Baby, you needn't discipline the boys but so hard." TazirVile said as he stepped up to his wife. "I'm actually glad that they disobeyed you—I wouldn't of been able to speak to them had they of not done so."

"You're glad? How the hell would you feel if it had been you that they disobeyed?" Angel spat. "Lhaklar—" she waved her arm back at her secondborn son. "—is usually very obedient but, as of late, he's not been adhering to my instructions in staying in the shield and Hazaar—" she waved her hand back at her thirdborn, who looked down in shame. "—is also usually very obedient but, at times, he does need some reminding of who is the one in charge."

"I understand, Baby. I had a few problems with them while they were in my ship." TazirVile said. "Hazaar, especially."

"You expected him to be obedient to you when he doesn't know who you are?"

"He knows I'm his father."

"Technically none of us know you anymore." Lhaklar admitted.

"Well, this is our chance to get to know each other. Angel, our firstborn happens to think that he's the one that Hazaar needs to take orders from. You aware of this?"

"I am and that's because, of the boys, he's the most mature." Angel replied.

"Well, time for him to start acting his age and not act as a full grown adult or as a parent." TazirVile said. "We have much to speak of on the boys but, before we do, and before we head off to the ship," TazirVile glanced at the youth that he had seen on Zeta Ren for only a second before giving his wife his attention again. "My love, who is that youngster? I'm not going to separate you from any offspring that you've had with any other man—I just need to know who this young fellow is."

After having to go to battle with a bunch of Goblins, and then with her grandfather, Angel thought long and hard on answering the question that had just been asked to her. Lhaklar and Hazaar were safe; they were behind her and slightly to her right while Lazeer was directly behind her—should anything happen, she was confident in being able to protect all of them.

Over the last few weeks, she had grown particularly tired of Tazir and his family calling Lazeer the "unknown youth", and she had also grown tired of reading about their supposing that he had been sired by a different man. LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, or Lazeer, as he was called by her and her sons, was a full on son of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit; he was the grandson of DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit and Ashaklar Zoopray and he was a great-grandson of ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit and Egla Shaar. She came close to sighing; though wanting Tazir to find out on his own about who Lazeer was in accord to him it was hard to not blurt it all out—it was obvious that Lhaklar and Hazaar hadn't spoken a word on who their brother was and she was glad for this.

When she noticed that Shaam was walking in the general direction of her second and thirdborn sons, she put a stop to thinking; in one, fluid motion she sent her great-great grandfather back to where he had previously been standing—the air blast was weak but it had its desired effect. With the "threat" gone, she went towards her two sons; she escorted them to where Lazeer was then she turned back to Tazir—the man had neither said a word nor had taken any steps towards her then-unprotected son. She respected that; all he was really doing was looking at Lazeer—he was just giving him a good looking over.

Seeing as her children were safe, for now, at least, Angel walked over to her husband; when she reached his side, she turned around then placed her arm around his waist. She decided to put him to a little test—just a little something to see if he was truly worthy of knowing who "the unknown youth" really was.

"Look familiar to you, Taz?" she asked. It was an automatic thing for her to use the petname that she had started using before they had even discovered themselves as being husband and wife.

"No, my love. I don't see an familiarity." TazirVile replied.

"I'm surprised with you—you should know who this young fellow is. He was born in Cawanuuk Hospital sixteen hundred years ago. You was there."

"I was? Who is he, sweetheart?" TazirVile asked. He had a confused tone in his voice that made Angel decide to drop the test that she had put to him. She dropped her arm from around his waist then went back to her sons.

"If you can't see any familiarity with him then it's obvious that you're not ready to have all of us living under the same roof." Angel said. She grabbed Lhaklar and Hazaar by their shirts; Lazeer grabbed her by the arm.

"My love, I _am_ ready. I've been searching for so long now. You and our sons, and that youngster there, need to come home with me now." TazirVile said.

"Where are you going, Lass?" ShaamVile asked after noticing that his great-great granddaughter had gotten into position to teleport. "It's all over now—you don't have to run, or hide, from us anymore. None of us will harm you or your sons—whether by Tazir, Vile, or otherwise."

"I'll leave you with some clues as to who my youngest son is." Angel said. "He was one of three hundred babies born on February 13; his year of birth is 2499, he was born in Cawanuuk Hospital after a short-term pregnancy that ran a span of five and a half months. He wasn't said to live for long and the doctors in charge of his care didn't seem to want to try on keeping him alive."

When he lunged towards her, he was a few seconds too late—Angel, his lovely wife, who he had only just discovered as being alive and well two months ago, teleported from the area with the three boys, two of whom he knew while the other he didn't.

As he stared at the spot where the four had once stood, thinking, and trying to come up with a logical explanation as to what had just happened and, of course, an answer to her given clues, the wind started to wail; he shivered twice while standing there. Most everyone else who had followed him from his ship turned then went back to camp; he, and a few others, remained where they were.

While it was hard to come down with an official tally of how many babies a day were born in any medical facility both he and his wife knew that three hundred had been born in Cawanuuk Hospital on February 13, 2499—Lazeer had been one of them. He contemplated on latching onto the idea of the youth named Reezal being his youngest son for only a second before latching onto the more logical idea of another baby, born at the same hospital, and to two Zetakin or near-Zetakin parents, who had made the decision to put their child up for adoption, and who's child had been adopted by his wife, as being the answer to his wife's many given clues.

"Reezal?" he said his thoughts into the wind. "After adopting this child, she gave him our lastborn's name spelled backwards."

"Tazir, it's right cold out. Think we need to go in, sweetie." Ashaklar said gently. She touched her son's shoulder, then gently turned him around; she led him back to his ship without saying a word more to him. He was mumbling to himself; she took that as the depression taking ahold on him. She felt for him, she truly did; she couldn't believe that Angel had said that she wouldn't be coming home because of one youth.


	29. Chapter 29

A few, normal, menial tasks were given to them before the year's first, two big storms blew in; after the first storm came in, both he and Hazaar found themselves being given nothing but outside-based chores to do.

The first storm of the year blew in four days after he and his brother were rescued from their father and his crazy family; around fifteen inches of snow fell on day one of this storm—Hazaar found himself ascending the ladder to get the snow from the roof of the apartment on this day while he found himself getting the chore of getting the snow from the roof of their mother's car; the chore of clearing the driveway of its snow fell on both of their shoulders—and about the same amount of snow fell on the three days that followed—they found themselves getting them exact same chores to do on them days. A few rolls of insulation were purchased just before the first storm blew in; both he and Hazaar were given the chore of putting it up in the cellar and they were also given the chore of insulating the attic as well.

Everything froze up following the first storm; he and his brother were given a few, inside-based, menial tasks to do during the freeze-over then, when the second storm of the winter season blew in, they found themselves getting more outside-based chores to do.

They swept and shoveled the walk of its snow; they shoveled the driveway of its accumulated snow; either Hazaar ascended the ladder to clear the roof of the apartment of another two to three feet of snow or he did so; he was given the chore of clearing the gutters of their accumulated snow and ice on day two of the second storm while Hazaar was given the chore of de-icing the apartment's front porch and the slab of concrete that acted as the apartment's "back porch"; Hazaar cleared the roof of their mother's car of its accumulated snow on each of the days that the storm was waging war on their area; and they were also told to clear some of the snow that had fallen on the trees—this was done to lighten the load on the trees, which would save them the worry of one of the trees succumbing to the weight of the snow and then falling over on their living space.

Bile, during the three weeks that they were grounded, got better slowly; during his sore-days, he played himself well to the part that their mother had asked him to play—which was to bug him and Hazaar crazy during the daytime hours, when she wasn't at home and wasn't able to give them constant chores to do. They heard more than enough lip from him during them three weeks; Hazaar actually came close to plowing his face in on week one of their given punishment—it was a good thing that he hadn't done so because, if he had, he would of been given a few extra days to possibly another week "in the hole". Lazeer also got on their nerves during them three weeks—though it took him a lot of effort, he did manage to not snap at him during the period that he and his brother were grounded.

The constantly given, outside chores did do them and their bodies good; they were as hard and as solid as could be now and they had a few extra muscles to show off to the ladies. After being grounded for three weeks—after getting chore after chore to do during the three weeks that followed their rescue from their father's ship—their mother figured that they had learned their lesson; she let them off the hook—and, by the time that this happened, the year's third winter storm was forecast. In twenty-four hours time, they had more than thirty inches of snow fall on them; since they weren't required to go out to shovel the walk, or the driveway, or get the snow from the roof or from the gutters, he and Hazaar stayed inside—where it was nice and warm.

He had kept up-to-date on the newspapers all during their given punishment; there had been more than eight articles written on him and his brother since their rescue. He had each and every one of them in his folder, which was out and before him now. He was sifting through some of these three-week old newspaper articles slowly.

From the Sharlang _Heruund_ , October 6, 4099 (Page 1)  
HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit Found Alive

It's a surprise to all who've been keeping tabs on the search that's being conducted by family patriarch, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, that one of the previously thought to be deceased younger boys born to Angel Irene is alive and well. Just three days ago word was received from the Surfeit camp, which is located on the lone-sentient possessing planet in the Milky Way Galaxy called Earth, about what's been going on with the camp's inhabitants; one of the members of the camp was fast in not only saying that everyone was fine but that an encounter with not one, not two, but three of Angel Irene's sons was experienced and that two of them three sons of Angel Irene's were retained in captivity for a short period of time before being retrieved by their mother. One of the two boys that were captured was LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit while the other was positively identified as being his younger brother, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit; it's being said that both of them were noted as being injured just before the attempt to capture them was done. While there is no information regarding the injuries that the two had there is information known on how their injuries were treated after they were taken aboard their father's ship—any and all injuries that were noted on their bodies were healed via a medical table about thirty minutes after they arose from, what is being said, a drug-induced sleep.

The manner in which the young boys were captured is what's gaining the attention of both normal-day civilians and critics; many are not pleased with the given details of the capture and are asking for more gentle tactics to be implored in future capturing attempts. The camp in which the Surfeit clan have been living in for nearly two months has a hot spring located just a half mile from it; it was here where the two boys were seen and where the capture took place in. After being notified that the two were a half mile from his camp, Mr. Surfeit decided to grab a few of the members of his camp and then go and see if he could capture them; two Sleeping Darts, that contained enough So2, a drug that causes one to fall into an unconscious, sleep-like state, to put a grown man to sleep, were on his and another of his retrieved party's person at the time. Both were used on the boys right after a slight altercation occurred, which left more than two injured. Normal-day civilians and critics are asking for Mr. Surfeit to not use the So2 drug-containing darts again on his next attempt to capture his sons—it's known that the dosage in some of these manufactured darts isn't accurate and that there are some effects felt by ones who are under the age of 2,850 that can't be reversed.

"I understand the concern; the dosage size was very small, and the packet that the darts were in was read more than twice before they were administered. While no adverse effects were felt, or noticed, by my sons I will be mindful of using the darts again." Mr. Surfeit said after hearing of the people's concern of the darts' use.

According to reports spawning from the Surfeit camp, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, the secondborn son of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, but the thirdborn son of Angel Irene, was healthy upon being treated for his injuries. His weight, for his age, is good; though being shorter than his father, he is said to be on schedule for his growth, which is surprising to some, seeing as the boy's mother would have had a difficult task at hand in keeping her three, surviving sons alive and fed during the times where Earth was encountering plagues, natural disasters, and climate changes.

HazaarVile, who was born on April 23, 2,399,093,908 at 6:01 a.m., in the mansion owned by his father, TazirVile Surfeit, wasn't conceived in the way that his half-brother, Bile Vile, and his full-brothers, LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, were; he was conceived via artificial insemination after the curse that his maternal grandfather, Vile Vile, better known as Master Vile by many, was removed.

"As far as I was able to tell, he's very keen upstairs—seemed to not have any screws loose or any mental issues that'd hinder him from living a normal life." ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, the boy's great-grandfather, said after being questioned on his personal opinion of the boy.

"With his being seventeen hundred years old, he's going through that age-appropriate phase of being extra moody—that was really all that was noted of him that was off; everything else seemed very normal." TazirVile Surfeit said when questioned on his secondborn son.

The boy, along with his brother, Lhaklar, escaped with the help of their mother, Angel Irene, who's known to be relatively handy with her Transformative abilities; the youth who was seen on Zeta Ren nearly two months ago has been mentioned by two members of the Surfeit camp as being of some assistance to the escaping pair. Before Angel Irene left the area with her sons she left a few clues on the identity of the youth who has yet to be identified; TazirVile Surfeit, and his family, are currently looking into her given-clues with the hope that the missing piece of the Irene Puzzle will be found and then affixed to its appropriate place on the puzzle board.

From the Chochaar _Jun_ , October 7, 4099 (Page 2)  
Information Regarding Surfeit Boys Going To School Not Being Found

As a way to garner some information on the Reezal boy, who was seen four days ago with his said-to-be mother, Angel Irene, and as a way to ascertain some information on LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit and HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, who were captured four days ago only to be rescued by their mother and the Reezal boy, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, and Vile Skujik Vile, better known as Master Vile on the latter, decided to pay the esteemed educational facility known as Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic a visit; it's been said that the three spent several hours in the school's archives room before making the call to drop the search. After eight hours of combing the school's vast archives, none of the men found a single file saying that their young kin-members had attended the school. In likewise fashion, when Mr. TazirVile Surfeit, and his stepfather, Cheshire Ubalki, combed the archives of the University of Telepathy, an educational facility located on the smaller of the three moons that orbit Zeta Looviniari, they found nothing saying that LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit or his brother, Hazaar, were students at the school.

"When I had them in my ship they used various spells and blocks that can only be learned from a three hundred-plus year tenure at the University of Telepathy; Lhaklar even said that he and Hazaar attended the school, and Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. We're not sure what's going on—whether a lie was spun or if we missed something while doing our search—but we're hoping that, with the next capture, we'll get some further answers on their educations." Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit said after being questioned on what he had found during his search of the University of Telepathy archives.

No word from DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit, the grandfather of the two boys who were captured only to be retrieved by their mother four days ago, could be gained on the search of the two schools' archives; LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit and his brother, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, haven't been seen since being captured and then retrieved by their mother.

The weather on Earth, in the general location where they, and their older brother, Bile Vile, have been said to roam, went downhill just last night at 2:13 a.m.; torrential snow, and freezing rain, has fallen and temperatures are near to freezing. It's being said that everyone who resides in the Surfeit camp, which is located near storm-ravaged Green River, Wyoming, will remain indoors until the weather clears up.

From the Zeta Orpicus _Template_ , October 10, 4099 (Page 2)  
Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit—Does She Wish To Come Home?

A week ago, when TazirVile Surfeit, and his family, happened upon and then captured LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit and his little brother, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, they had a short while to be with the two before their mother, Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, retrieved them from them. It's being said that, just before whisking herself, and the two boys, and the boy that Mr. Surfeit saw on Zeta Ren in mid-August, to an unknown location, Mrs. Vile-Surfeit had a small conversation with her husband; along with disclosing an interest in not returning home just yet she also gave a few clues as to who the child who she signed in on the sign-in sheet at Goggles For All as her son is. Though happy to receive her clues Mr. Surfeit is said to be more concerned over her lack of interest in returning home with him and his daughter, EshalVile Eskara Surfeit.

Owing to the leaked information, that was accidentally given by a member of Mr. Surfeit's staff during the early-morning hours of October 8, many are wondering if Mrs. Vile-Surfeit's actions during the retrieval of her sons don't show the true cause on why she doesn't want to come home yet. Along with being noted as being highly angered at the two boys that she retrieved from her husband's ship she was also noted as attacking several members of her husband's staff; her grandfather, KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, was also attacked by her during this period. All who were attacked were only trying to get her attention from the two boys and to calm her down.

"The spark's there—when she wrapped her arm around me, I felt that old spark that we had for one another. The question, at the moment, is why she didn't just tell me who her young son is and then stick with me after telling me who he is." Mr. Surfeit said upon being questioned on the information that had been accidentally leaked by one of his employees.

Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit's Universal and Family Husband's are said to be working on a plan on how to get access to the interior of the shield that surrounds the city-turned-town nearest them; with the weather being what it is on the part of the planet that they're on, they're not able to do much of anything but remain in their respective ships and compile information and come up with a plan on how they're going to find and then capture their wife and sons.

Bile Vile, the oldest son born to Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, hasn't been seen in nearly a month, which raises the question on where he is and on what his health status is. LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, the Reezal boy, and Mrs. Vile-Surfeit haven't been seen in a week; all in the Surfeit camp, along with all who live abroad in the Universe, are hoping that they are staying warm, safe, and well-fed.

From the Zeta Honkoloth _Gezat_ , October 21, 4099 (Page 2)  
Reezal Bakerly—Who Is He?

It seems be-fitting that now, with it heading on two weeks since LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, and their mother, Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit, were last seen, and with it now being a full month since Bile Vile was last seen, the Surfeit clan, located near the city-turned-town of Green River, Wyoming, would look into the information provided to them by one of their own nearly two weeks ago on the boy who was seen and claimed by Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit as one of her own on Zeta Ren in mid-August.

Reezal Bakerly, as he is called by many, was last seen on the day that his said-to-be mother, Mrs. Vile-Surfeit, and his brothers, LhaklarVile and HazaarVile, were; his mother left a few clues on his identity just before teleporting herself, and her sons, to an undisclosed location. For some, the clues that she gave sound a little similar to the facts that are known on her lastborn son, LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit, and, for others, the clues provided by her are irrelevant to the child that she gave birth to on February 13, 2499. Her clues were as followed: he was one of three hundred born on the same day that her lastborn son was; his place of birth is said to be Cawanuuk Hospital; the pregnancy with which he was produced from was a short, five and a half month one; and the doctors who were charged with his care didn't seem to want to put forth the effort on keeping him alive.

While some are screaming in saying that her given clues specify that her lastborn son is alive there's many others who say that her clues point to yet another baby who was born under the near-same circumstances that Lazeer was born in. While each birth is unique there are a few out there that seem so similar that it's hard to note the differences; most of the time, its twin-births where this occurrence happens and, as all know, Mrs. Vile-Surfeit has, to everyone's knowledge, only had single-baby pregnancies.

"As far as we know, the kid's name is Reezal; we have no idea what his middle name is—we're still under the assumption that his surname is that of what Angel signed him down with when she and he went to Goggles For All." ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit's great-great grandfather, said when questioned about his great-great granddaughter's clues. "While it's possible that his surname isn't what was placed on the sign-in sheet—we know that Angel's wasn't what was placed on that sheet—we don't know for sure if the name was accurately given or not. We're just as clueless as can be on what she gave us to go by."

"Reezal is Lazeer spelled backwards—we know this much as fact. We're nulling over the idea of her adopting a child and then giving him a variant of the name that was placed to the one that she lost—as a sort of honor thing, you know." Cyla Surfeit, née Dybla, said when questioned on her great-granddaughter's clues.

TazirVile Surfeit claims that when he had his two sons in his possession, his secondborn son, HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, claimed that his brother, LhaklarVile Closu Surfeit, was already a father and that Reezal Bakerly was his son—in accord to Mrs. Vile-Surfeit's given clues, this makes no sense. TazirVile Surfeit says that the youth looks no older than sixteen hundred years of age which would put his oldest born son at being no more than five hundred years of age when Reezal was conceived and then born; LhaklarVile Surfeit was a child when Reezal Bakerly was supposedly born so this made-claim cannot be looked at with serious eyes. The youngest father on record was Puswe Macal; he became a father at no more than two thousand, eight hundred, and three years of age and his child, a son, was born with quite a lot of mental issues that stem from his father not being mature enough to produce healthy offspring—due to his age at the time of his son's conception and then birth, Puswe Macal had no involvement in the raising of his child.

So, who is Reezal Bakerly? Could the original assumption of Mrs. Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit coupling with another man, who aided her in the creation of the boy, be correct or could she of adopted a child and then pinned a name on him that's eerily similar to her lastborn son's name or could he be an actual grandchild of Mrs. Vile-Surfeit's who she's taken to the liberty of raising after his immature father refused to accept responsibility over the child that he created?

It seems to everyone, Surfeit and otherwise, that the only answer to these questions is to find Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit and her sons.

"Think you need a new folder," Bile said after entering their shared bedroom. "The one that you have is near to exploding."

"I need one of them ring binders—y'know... the kind that has them clear, or laminated, sheets in it." Lhaklar replied. "Been meaning to get one but—"

"Yeah, make up an excuse." Bile smiled. "Seems like they're finally seeing that they were wrong in the "only the older kids are alive" thing."

"Not really—they have yet to discover "Reezal's" identity." Lhaklar said.

"They that stupid? Flip his name around and—"

"They have—they're claiming that there's three things going on that could explain "Reezal's" existence. That she and another man coupled, then had a kid together who was named Reezal; that she adopted a kid, who was born on the same day, and in the same hospital, and under the exact same circumstances, as Lazeer, then named him Reezal in honor of Lazeer, who she lost to a plague or natural disaster; and that she took on the child that I fathered after I decided to not do the raising." Lhaklar said as he placed his folder down on the bed beside him.

"They that daft, eh? Who else could of been born like Lazeer was and, for the wonder, how could they assume that you're a father?" Bile asked as he grabbed the string that was up on the wall. With a tug, he pulled his bed, or cot, as he liked to call it, down. With the bed, which was all made up in a forest-designed comforter set, down, he got on it. "I can come up with an answer so much faster than they—even if he wasn't my brother, I could, and that's pretty damn bad on their part. I'm betting that a lot of others can figure out who "Reezal" is as well."

Lhaklar stood up, then stretched towards the ceiling, then turned to grab his folder; he took it over to the room's one bookcase, which was right beside the only window that was in the room. Due to his being a resident of this room for five years now, he could see the details, and all of the items that were on it, with his eyes shut; he placed the folder in its appointed slot then simply stood by the bookcase—which was, technically, his. The bookcase that Bile had used during his, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's tenure at the University of Telepathy had long since caved in on itself; he had exhumed the old bookcase that he had used before going off to his second education then he had said that he and his brother would share it—this bookcase was made of natural solid oak and it had six shelves on it.

His book collection was on the first two shelves; he had been an avid book-reader as a child and he was still an avid book-reader to that day. He had the entire series of The Hardy Boys—a series of books that had been created in 1926, by a man named Edward Stratemeyer, who had been the founder of the book-packaging firm called the Stratemeyer Syndicate, but that had been written by many different ghostwriters over the years with each book being published under the same collective pseudonym of Franklin W. Dixon—; The Black Stallion, which was Walter Farley's bestselling series; and Nancy Drew—a mystery fiction series created by publisher Edward Stratemeyer in 1930 that, like The Hardy Boys books, was written by many different ghostwriters and that was published under the collective pseudonym of Carolyn Keene. He also had the entire collection of The Boxcar Children—a series that had been originally created, and written, by an American writer, and first-grade teacher, named Gertrude Chandler Warner in 1927. The third shelf had some of the scrolls that his mother had gotten and then made copies of—these were important; they contained important lessons on how one with Elemental powers could achieve different moves, or abilities, in their powers. Even though their mother had been able to teach them all of what she knew she hadn't been able to teach them the advanced or the very expert steps that were in the power; in order to ensure that they had the proper knowledge on how one with this specific power used this power, she had made copies of each of her scrolls and then given him and all of his brothers one of them. He, Hazaar, and Lazeer also had some scrolls, and a full-length book, on Acidic powers as well—Lazeer was really the only one of them to of naturally gained this power, so he was really the only one who had taken the scrolls, and the book, to full heart. He, sadly, wasn't as equipped with his Acidic powers while Hazaar was plain lazy to learn how to use his—he had only learned the basics of this power before his Temperamental phase set in.

The shelves underneath them three were Bile's; along with his many hunting, sports, and knife magazines, he had a few dozen, well-hidden, nudie magazines of the first shelf that was his. There were jade figures of bears, rearing horses, and two glass Dragons on the shelf underneath that one and, on the shelf that was under that one, there was a collection of knives. The knives were all Bile's, as were the two glass dragons; Bile had let him store his jade bear figures and rearing horses on the shelves that he had taken as his.

The wallpaper that was on the walls of his and Bile's room had a brick design to it; the ceiling was a red-orange color while the carpet was a tinge darker—thanks to he and Bile dropping a cigarette, or a joint, to the carpet a few years back, there were a few burn areas on the carpet that they were trying to keep covered up. He had come close to creaming himself after coming home from the University of Telepathy—during his tenure at the school, Bile had taken the liberty of hanging a few pin-up girl posters on his side of the room; while he wouldn't admit it to anyone verbally, he was glad that these were up. He did get a "high" from looking at them and they did give the room an Older Brother feeling.

The poster that was beside his brother's bed had a rather pretty, and seductive, Rita Hayworth on it; it was one of them rare, black and white posters that, as of late, were rather collectible. Ms. Hayworth had been photographed as being on her knees on a bed; she was wearing something that looked like a silk gown, there looked to be lacing on the top of this gown. She had a very seductive look to her face, which was just as pretty as could be. Bile had found this poster at the local Flea Market a couple of years ago; he had liked it enough to buy it and then bring it home—from what he had been told, the poster had cost him just sixty-five cents. According to their mother, the photograph that the poster had been made out of had been taken in 1946; while she had mentioned herself as not being sure of this claim she had said that she believed that the photograph had been taken on the set of Gilda, which Ms. Hayworth had been acting in. Although their mother had been okay with the Rita Hayworth poster she hadn't been but so sure of the Raquel Welch poster that his brother had come in with a week later.

"Ms. Welch gives me better than fine dreams," he thought as he sustained the smile that wanted to creep across his face.

That Raquel Welch poster... oh yum! He was glad to have that up in the room and he was also glad that he was "allowed" to look at it. The lovely dish on the poster had been photographed on her knees; one of her legs was held back just a bit from the other, one of her hands was on her hip while the other was placed to her temple. Ms. Raquel Welch had been photographed while wearing a deerskin bikini, which looked damn hot on her, for a reason—according to their mother, the poster had been made to promote Raquel Welch's movie, One Million Years B.C. He and his brother, after learning the movie's title, had gone to find and then rent it; the two of them had watched it separately—Ms. Welch had been just as sexy in the movie as she was in the poster. According to his brother, he had found the poster underneath a pile of old, torn up posters at the Flea Market. It had been priced at just a dollar twenty-five; he had been so captivated by the poster—not to mention very aroused by the pose that Ms. Welch had been doing when the photograph for the poster had been snapped—that he hadn't been able to stop himself from buying it.

Their mother, though accepting of their sexual orientations, and though allowing them to express their sexual orientations, had been fast in saying that no more posters like that of the Raquel Welch one were allowed to be brought into the apartment; although Bile had obeyed her he had gone back to the Flea Market for the wallet-sized photographs that he had seen just after purchasing Ms. Welch. He had some of the most beautiful, and scantily clad, women lining the photograph sleeves of his wallet; he had seen them a few times and he had damn near creamed himself with each looking. Bile had bought each for a quarter each—his brother either seemed to have an eye for better than bargain buys or the humans who were selling their posters, and wallet-sized photographs, in the Flea Market didn't know what they had or didn't care what they had.

The first photo sleeve of his brother's wallet had a photograph of a very busty, topless Hawaiian girl, who was wearing a blue, wrap-around skirt on her bottom half, in it; in the second photo sleeve was a photograph of a woman who had been photographed half-naked, and who just so happened to be looking down at the photograph's barely noticeable floorboards. The piece de resistance was in the third photo sleeve; the woman, who was wearing absolutely nothing, but who had a thin piece of fabric lying across her waist, and who had one of her legs held up in a sultry way, was a bomb—as if to enhance this, she had a cigarette between her index and middle fingers and a heart-shaped charm necklace hanging down from around her neck.

How his brother was able to look in his wallet, and see her, and not get a boner was beyond him; he sure as hell got one whenever he saw that one particular photograph.

"My side of the room is a little more organized than Bile's; with Bile's posters being up on the walls, I really didn't need to put any posters of my own up—I still have a few, though." he thought as he turned to look at the side of the room that was his.

Even though he had two posters to his name only one was out and in the open; the poster of Uncle Fester, a character that Christopher Lloyd portrayed in The Addams Family, was very innocent in all attributes while the one that was taped to its back wasn't. A small, fully naked photograph of Ms. Marilyn Monroe had been found in one of the neighbor's trash about three years ago; after fishing the photograph out, then seeing what it was that was in it, he had taken it to the man who both developed and blew up photographs to see if it could be blown to being poster-sized. His mother would just about flip if she saw this photograph—though surprised over Hazaar's interest in Playboy magazines he wasn't totally new to them types of magazines and, in fact, the poster-sized photograph of Ms. Monroe was from the first edition of Playboy.

His most favorite item in the room, other than the posters, of course, was the bull Moose skull and antlers, which were both hung up above the headboard of his bed. He had taken the animal down a few months before his father, and his kooky family, arrived on the planet.

The Water Buffalo skull and antler set that was mounted above the door was Bile's; the rustic dresser, that looked more than a little beaten up, and that was either in need of being thrown out or repaired and then given a fresh coat of paint, that sat to the right of the door frame was also Bile's.

An eye-ball, paper-mache lamp—which he thought looked looked cooler than shit; when it was on, all sorts of crazy designs were cast out on the walls—and a skull-shaped alarm clock, that's eyes were where the time was displayed, was on the dresser's surface.

His dresser was on the other side of the door frame; it was made out of dark brown walnut wood and it had four drawers on it. The lamp, that he had made himself, was to the left of its surface—the light bulb, that was in the center of an ice-cube block, was permanently placed thanks to his use of a little bit of his Acidic powers. All he had to do was touch the top of his lamp for it to turn on; the same went if he wanted it to be turned off. Beside his homemade lamp was an upside down light bulb alarm clock—he had purchased this two years ago for twelve dollars.

The plastic box that his magazines were put in was under his bed; it was shoved back to nearly the wall. Whenever he got his monthly usuals, or wanted to read one of his older editions, he'd just reach under his bed to grab the box and then pull it out. The place where he kept his stashed cigarettes was also under his bed—there was a hole in his mattress that he used to store the items that he didn't want his mother to find.

"Ever gonna finish that model of yours?" Bile asked.

"Been busy these past few weeks—all I have to do is paint the engine, then the outer shell, and it'll be done." Lhaklar replied.

"What number does this make? Five? Six?"

"Four, thank you." Lhaklar replied.

Yep, he had his models as well. As a kid, he had found himself liking his father's cars so much that he had wanted to have miniature versions of them. This fascination of his had gone so far for him that he had even bugged his father crazy on questions on the vehicles that he owned and drove—the man, he remembered, had always been a sport with him and his constant question doing.

He had kept this interest of his after being moved to Earth; he had more than enough magazines on cars, he had books on cars that had been made from 1880 to 1940, and he also had a tin can that had cards in it that described the cars that had been made from the 1880's to the current day. As of the last few years, he had taken to building model cars; the stump that was beside his dresser had all of the models that he had built over the years on it. A red and silver Studebaker, that was based off the actual 1931 model; a dark blue Chrysler New Yorker convertible, that was based off the 1960's model; and a red Model A, that had a black top, which was based off the vehicle that had been in production from 1928 to 1932, that was what was on the stump that he was using as a sort of table. The model that he was currently working on was a 1941 Cadillac Series 62 4-door convertible; he was trying his best to paint it black and silver.

Even though he wasn't done with the Cadillac model, he had a good mind to grab a few more models; they were good to do when the weather was bad, or when there wasn't anything to do, and it was also a calm-based activity to do. The model store in town had a Buick Streamliner, a vehicle that had been made in the late 1940's, and that had very recently been returned to market, in it that he had been eye-balling for the last few months. He was also interested in the store's model kit for the 1948 Lincoln Continental Coupe—this model looked so badass... he bet it'd be fun to put it together, and paint it, and he also bet that it'd look nice with his other model cars.

"Lazeer went back to being depressed again." Bile said with a sigh. "He won't leave his and Hazaar's room—he just wants to sit, or lie, on his bed and gaze out the window."

"I know... I know." Lhaklar sighed. He pinned the blame for the family savings being dipped into, and for Lazeer not yet having his goggled glass, on him; if he hadn't gone out to the hot spring, and then gotten grounded after being rescued by his mother, they wouldn't of been forced into taking some of the money from their savings out to pay the electric, cable, and car insurance bills. Due to their having to eat into the family savings, and to his not being able to go to work during the weeks that he had been grounded, the seven hundred dollars that had been saved up for Lazeer's goggled glass had been downed to being just a little over three hundred.

"Hazaar's been trying to get him to join him in building that model train that he's been working on for months." Bile said. "No go—he just doesn't want to do anything but sit and mope."

"Hazaar hasn't finished his model train yet?" his head snapped up at this piece of information; Hazaar had gotten that model three months ago... to hear that it wasn't finished was more than a shock to him.

"No—last I heard, he just has the last car to put together and then paint." Bile replied.

"Doesn't Lazeer had any models to do?" Lhaklar asked.

"No."

"Weird—could of swore that I saw him getting a few models a few months ago."

They, like any other set of siblings, had different interests. He had his old, classic cars; Bile had his knives, pin-up girls, and wallet-sized photographs of sexy-ass women; Hazaar had his model trains and spaceships; and Lazeer... well, this brother of his had an interest in building model planes and dinosaurs. Lazeer had built four plane models, and around five or so dinosaur models, before the depression came calling; he had lost all interest in model building after the depression claimed him.

Lhaklar looked out the window; even though the sun was hidden, and it was snowing a little on the heavy side, he was able to see the snow-covered backyard. It looked like the snow was deep—so deep that it might just come up, and maybe past, his knees. The thought of his taking his younger brothers outside to play in the snow—to make and then throw snowballs, or to make snow-families—came to him right after he looked out the window. A smile pulled at his lips when the idea of their making snow-families came to him—Bile was always called over to destroy the families that they had made out of snow; he'd act all mean and nasty with them snow-families after they were built, named, and then dressed and they'd just sit, or stand, nearby and laugh at the "assault".

With the sun being hidden behind the clouds, and with the snow falling as heavily as it was, Lazeer could well go outside for a while; for all he knew, some time out in the snow might just cheer him up. The spell that their mother had done on the shield, which had made it possible for him and his brothers to both leave and then enter it without issue, had been undone right after he and Hazaar were returned home from being rescued; except through the tunnels that connected the cities, towns, and counties that were closest to them, they couldn't leave Green River, Wyoming. He didn't think that his mother would put up any fusses over their going out to play with the snow that was in their backyard—she had said nothing for or against their leaving the apartment after shoving off for work that morning.

"You never said what happened after you and Hazaar were captured." Bile said right when he was making a mental note of calling their mother. "Anything worth telling?"

"Unless you want to hear about how many times the old man spanked me and Hazaar, not really." Lhaklar replied.

"Spanked? You're what, over two thousand years old, and he spanked you?" Bile chuckled, then rolled over to his side. "I can imagine the shock that coursed through your and Hazaar's veins after he yanked you over his knee."

"We weren't yanked over his knee—he just swung his hand at us." Lhaklar said. "He also slapped us a few times; I also got punched in the stomach by him."

"Good thing I wasn't there, then. I'd of had him over my knee and—"

"We had a sort of meal with "the family" while we were there as well—man, they had more than enough to say on how we looked." Lhaklar was fast in saying. "I and Hazaar were said to be stunted—either too tall, or short, or too thin—and the man who made you said that you're too big and tall."

"Da phaq man—I'm big for my age but not so much so that I'm off-balance or sickly." Bile exclaimed. "They're just jealous because they don't have the genes to look as sexy as we do, Bro. Hazaar's not short by any means and neither is Lazeer."

"They also said that we had man's bodies—"

"Last time I checked, we _are_ young men." Bile said. He sat up on his bed then started acting tough. "And some damn fine young men at that. Look at dem dames that swoon over us—they's jus' jai-luhs that they didn't get a goil when dey wuz our age."

"They also kept referring to mom as bad—kept saying that she neglected us and our educations, and that she's being a bad parent in letting us hunt, and go out on the town on our own, and—"

"Ma is the best ma in the whole damn Universe!" Bile shot up from his bed so fast that it made the springs in the wall snap free; his bed slammed up into its spot in the wall loudly.

Hazaar, who was down in his and Lazeer's shared bedroom, had a feeling about what all of the slamming and yelling that was going on above him was about—he had relayed all of what had happened while he and Lhaklar had been held captive to Lazeer a few hours ago; Lazeer, though a depressed wreck, had acted in the same way that Bile was. It really didn't matter if the kid was in a depressed funk or not; when it came to their mother, and her good honor, he cast any and all issues that were bogging him down to the side. He got serious, angry, and loud when it came time to defend Mom's Honor; he couldn't help but be proud of him.

Lazeer had been fast in saying that their mother wasn't doing anything wrong in accord to them—he had said that she was a good momma... one who let them have their privacy, and who allowed them to roam where it was safe to roam, and where they wished to roam, and who would let them bring home things from the dump, or the Flea Market, or from the convenience stores where their monthly magazines were purchased. The town that they lived in was as safe as could be; only a dozen or so crimes had happened in Green River, Wyoming since their, and Lhaklar's, return from the University of Telepathy occurred. If the town hadn't been safe, or if a crime happened every day, or every night, they wouldn't of been moved here—momma would want them to be raised in a good, healthy, safe town, not in one that was dangerous or that harbored people who were looking to cause constant trouble.

Their mother trusted them to behave themselves—to not get into too much trouble—and, though she'd accept them if they swung both ways, or preferred their own gender, she preferred for them to act their age and gender; they weren't suppose to stay home, play with makeup, or do them dress-up games that the girls did, and they weren't suppose to bake constant sweets or read them fancy girlie magazines that the opposite gender had an interest in or do the gossip-thing over the phone. They were suppose to have more manly, masculine interests.

Hazaar looked at his model train; the caboose just needed one more paint application before being complete. He was glad to finally be done with this model; now that this one was nearly done, he could move on to doing the next one—he had purchased a model engine a couple of weeks ago; it was one of them creepy, Halloween-theme engines that looked so cool. He had plans in the next few days, after the weather finally quieted down, to go out to get the passenger car, the freight car, and the caboose—the train just wouldn't be complete without having them three cars included with it.

He had started liking trains in his early hundreds; just the act of their zooming by on their runs, or just hearing their whistles being blown, was enough to cause him to feel excited. He liked the older model trains that ran through the town's train yard and station better than the ones that went through Rock Springs; the older model trains were so retro—so cool, and antique and unique—in comparison to them speed demons that rode the single rails of Rock Springs' train stations. He liked the steam that came up from the smokestack, and how the engineers had to keep chucking coal in to keep the train running and rolling along on the track; the trains that went through Rock Springs had long since been "upgraded" to being energy savers—instead of coal and steam, they ran on pure energy, which was pumped through the single rail that the trains ran on, and which was "absorbed" by the trains as they drove along. The ride on the old model trains was so much more relaxing in comparison to the ride that was experienced on them speed demon energy savers—the trains that went through Rock Springs were almost roller coaster-like... the rails that they rode on had all sorts of twists, turns, and loops to them that they almost looked like roller coasters. He had rode on one of them Rock Springs trains once—his face had felt almost like it was being ripped free of him, and his upper and lower body had felt like they were about to be ripped in half, and he had screamed bloody murder until the thing finally stopped. It had taken a lot of effort on his part to release the steel pole that he had been gripping when that screaming metal deathtrap stopped—his curiosity had been satiated on that ride; he had never rode one of the Rock Springs trains again, and he had surely never told his mother that he had rode on one of them. For all he knew, his mother, if she knew, or found out about his riding on one of the Rock Springs trains, might just throttle him with her concern and then come at him with more than a simple dish towel—she preferred for him to just plain have an interest in looking at pictures of trains, or reading books that were about trains, or watching trains as they rolled by on the train tracks.

"I'd of throttled them had I of been there to hear them talk bad of ma!" he and Lazeer heard Bile yell. "She lets us walk out on our own because she trusts us! If we went around, shootin' the place up, or had babies being dropped on our doorstep once a month, she'd not let us out alone much less out of her sight!"

"Snowin' pretty hard outside." Hazaar said. "Bet we'd be able to make some mean snowers."

"Probably." Lazeer mumbled.

"Or have a good snowball fight." Hazaar said.

"Probably." Lazeer mumbled again.

"Be a good reason to go outside, y'know. Get away from Bile, and his yelling." Hazaar said.

"Mom would freak." Lazeer's mumble was nearly inaudible.

"It's twenty-eight degrees outside—bundle up real good, and stay in the back. I don't think momma will get mad at us if we stayed in the yard."

"She wouldn't get mad—she'd freak and then ask us if we want to catch pneumonia or something." Lazeer said.

"Not if we had two coats, and gloves, on us and not if we had a hat on our heads." Hazaar said as he crossed the room. He grabbed his brother's bedding then yanked it back; Lazeer, who was in a fetal position, gave him an angry look before lunging for his bedding. "Going outside is better than you lying here, getting a bad back—you keep lying in that position and you'll get a badly curved back that'll make walking painful."

"Man, leave me alone! I don't want to do anything but lie in bed." Lazeer said. He grabbed his bedding, then threw over himself, then went as still as could be. Hazaar was fast in ripping his just-returned bedding back. "Come on, Hazaar! I'm in no mood to go playing in winter's fabulous wonderland. Only the ones who have no eye ailments are allowed to go and build snowmen, throw snowballs, and have fun outside."

Hazaar dropped the bedding that was on his brother's bed then went to the kitchen; he grabbed the phone that was on one of the kitchen walls then he dialed the number for his mother's cellular. The hell if he was going to sit here and watch his little brother mope, and keep himself all cooped up, when the backyard was more than full of snow to play with. Besides having a snowball fight, and building a snowman, or a snower, as he called them, or an army of snowers, there was their old favorite activity of going out to use their powers to make rifts in the snow. They could build snow forts that were several feet high; they could build snow castles, then pretend to move into them; and they could also collect a few buckets of snow for their mother, who might just want to make some snow-cream.

The number to their mother's workplace, and to her cellular, was on the fridge; the Food Lion calendar magnet was holding them to the fridge door quite well. The piece of paper that had her boss's, and a few of her co-workers', and Casey Cook's numbers on it was right underneath that. The phone that he had taken from the wall was red and green in color; the curly cord that connected it to its base unit was two feet long. After dialing the number to his mother's cellular, then standing around, waiting for his call to be answered, he became nervous; his nervousness was only increased a few seconds later, when his mother's voice-mail kicked in.

He hung up, then dialed Charles Binkleton's cellular, then waited; when his mother's boss didn't answer, he started to sweat. He started to wonder if there was something wrong going on at the store that his mother worked at. While shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he dialed his mother's workplace number; he crossed his fingers after dialing this number.

The breath that he was holding in was released after his call was picked up on the third ring.

"Hello, this is Christie Baker, how may I help you?" a pretty-sounding woman said after his call was answered.

"Is my mom in the store?" Hazaar asked. He pretended that the woman on the other end was wearing just a bikini, and had a Fuzzy Naval in her hand, for only a second before discarding it. "Her name's Angel Irene."

"She is, yes. Who is this that calls?" Christie Baker asked him.

"Hazaar—one of her sons."

"You hold on a second sweet-face." Christie Baker said. He blushed when she called him a cutsie name. It took about thirty seconds to a minute for his mother to get to the phone.

"Hazaar, what's wrong?" his mother asked. She had a nervous tone in her voice that he was fast to note.

"Nothing momma. I tried to call your cellular... you didn't answer." Hazaar said.

"Whoops, I must have it turned off." his mother said with a chuckle. "What is it that you're calling about?"

"Is it alright if I and my brothers go outside and play around in the backyard?" Hazaar asked. "Lazeer's right depressed and I was hoping that—"

"Are you four going to obey me, and stay your wee booties in the shield, and in our backyard, if I say yes?" his mother asked.

"Yes momma—we will."

"Alright, you four can go out. Make sure that you have your things on—it's cold outside. I mean the whole nine yards, Hazaar. Coats, gloves, hats, boots, and a scarf." his mother said. Hazaar felt like yelling yahoo at the ceiling—he was very excited over being told that he, and his brothers, could go outside to play in the snow. "I'm turning my cellular on now—if any of you need a thing you call me, hear me?"

"Loud and clear, momma." Hazaar said.

"Good, now you four have fun, stay safe, and please stay smart. Do your best to not catch a cold or the flu or pneumonia." his mother said. What she said next heated him up so much that he was sure that, if he went outside, all of the snow around him would melt. "I love you, Hazie. You tell your brothers that as well now. I love all of you."

"We love you too, mommy." Hazaar said, he wanted to give her a hug.

When the line went dead, he hung the phone up then ran over to the broom—he grabbed it up from its lean-on spot, which was the counter, then he started jabbing it at the ceiling. He made enough noise to cause both Bile and Lhaklar to both shut up and come down to see what all the fuss was about; they were only halfway down the stairs when he yelled that their mother had just given them permission to go outside—their yells of excitement over the given permission were just as loud as his. His two brothers went to the closet that was on the apartment's first level then started donning their winter wears right after yelling; he went towards his and Lazeer's room for his winter wears right after the hustle and bustle activities of his older brothers was heard.

His older sister, Eshal, had called him BroSis while he had been in his father's ship; he made damn sure to give his reflection in the mirror, that was attached to the door of his and Lazeer's bedroom closet, the good, ol' bird right after he reached his and his brother's shared room. There was no girlie-ness to him; he was all male and he was damn glad on that. He couldn't see how such a name was able to be conjured, much less spoken of in the verbal sense.

He was fast in sliding his shoes off; the heavy-duty pair of snow boots, that had been purchased for him two winters ago, were slid onto his feet just when he was reaching up to grab the gray and red striped scarf that was hanging on the closet's rod. While wrapping the scarf around his neck, he went towards his dresser; the top drawer of his dresser was opened then his gray striped toboggan hat was removed, he placed this item on his head quickly then went back to the room's closet. The last thing that he needed to grab and then throw around himself was his heavy winter coat—his gloves were in one of its pockets, so he wouldn't have to do much fussing or fretting over where they were.

"Lazeer?" he said after seeing no activity going on with his brother. "Lazeer, come on man! Get your ass out of bed—momma said that we can go outside, so get dressed so you can do so."

Even though he was under the bedding of his bed, he was able to detect the characteristic movement of someone shaking their head; nothing verbal was said from his brother.

"Mom said for you to go out—permission was granted for us to use any and all means of torture on you until you get up from bed and then start getting dressed to go outside." Hazaar said right when Bile and Lhaklar walked into his and his brother's room.

"If you don't want a big ball of snow shoved down the back of your pants you'll get up now." Bile threatened.

"You've got two minutes to get up before we grab you—you'll be thrown out in the snow without wearing a single thing to keep yourself warm with in T-minus a hundred and twenty seconds." Lhaklar said.

"I'm not going out! Leave me alone!" Lazeer yelled from under his bedding.

"Okay then, you asked for yourself to be thrown out buck-naked and that's what you'll get." Bile and Lhaklar started stomping their snow-booted feet to imitate their walking towards their younger brother. "He ho hum hah, here we come!"

It took more than enough strength to fill a grown man for Bile to not explode at his youngest brother; he tried to pick Lazeer up, and then dress him himself, and he also gave him plenty of threats to, really, no avail—Lazeer, though smaller than he, managed to fend him off and ignore his issued threats. Lhaklar threatened to pick Lazeer up and then throw him from the room's one window, which had since been opened by Hazaar as a way to warrant this threat actually happening, and he also tried the threat of calling their mother to snitch on him about his not wanting to go outside—again, this didn't work on Lazeer; he both ignored his brother and gave him the cold shoulder.

In the end, it took the combined efforts of all three of them to get Lazeer's ass out of bed and then outside. Bile grabbed Lazeer from his bed, then held him steady as Lhaklar threw his coat, gloves, hat, and scarf on; Hazaar worked feverishly to put his brother's boots on while also trying to not get kicked; and, at the end of their ordeal, they all carried him out the room, then down the hall, then out the apartment's back door. Lazeer was practically dumped in the snow a few minutes after all of this was done—due to the front and back doors of the apartment being locked, and all of the windows in the apartment being shut, he was stuck with having to be outside.

At first, it was just the three of them playing in the snow. They made soccer ball-sized snowballs then kicked them around; they had a snowball fight before deciding to send plain snow-waves at one another; tornadoes of snow were made and then used in a playful way; they practiced their Elemental Water power by using all of the various moves on the snow—due to it being a frozen liquid, they could do this with no problems—; and they collected a few buckets of snow for their mother. After Bile sent a jet of snow at Hazaar, which made him fall down to his keister, they started making snowmen, snow-women, and then snow families; Lazeer, after standing under the overhanging roof of the apartment for fifteen minutes, decided to become involved in the latter activity after it was started.

Bile's first snow-woman was very skinny and top-heavy—he claimed that he was going to marry her, then father four to five children with her, then grow old with her, before kicking her down and then stomping the hell out of her. Between each of them, two snowmen, one snow-woman, and then a few smaller snowmen were built. Bile was the one who went to grab the sticks from one of the smaller trees that were in the backyard; he affixed these branches to each of the made snow-people before stepping back.

"Man, how can these be called snowmen and women? The "women" have no breasts and the men have nothing down below the waist." he said after giving the created snow-people arms.

They laughed after Lazeer stuck a small-length stick down on the base of the snowmen that were said to be male instead of female; Lhaklar followed up this action by giving the snowmen that were said to be female breasts a few seconds later—they laughed so hard at this that they all started choking.

" _Now_ they _can_ be called male and female snowmen." Bile said after they stopped laughing.

Bile torched the snow families; the characteristic sound of fire popping was heard loud and clear while the sloshing sound of just-melted water was barely audible—they just about choked themselves to death on their laughter when Lhaklar started acting as the "preacher" to the snow families' funeral right after they were downed. With the snowmen down, and with there still being enough snow to play with, they set to building snow forts next; Lazeer was fast in throwing his fort together and he was also fast in throwing snowballs at their rumps—they paid him back for this "assault" by attacking his fort with big, medium, and small snowballs right after their forts were built. When the decision was made to put an end to their playing with the snow, they were all nearly exhausted—before the decision was made to put their play to bed, they had managed to shove a few icicles down the back of Bile's coat; a sort of race in the snow was done; they built walls of snow and then ran at them; and Lhaklar and Lazeer become something akin to snowblowers when they decided to throw nothing but snow at their brothers.

In all, they spent nearly two hours outside before decided to go in and warm up. Lazeer went into the bathroom that was on the apartment's first level then quickly took his wet things off; he tossed each and every thing that he had worn that had become wet in the tub then went to dress in something dry. His brothers followed in his example in doing the exact same thing. When Lhaklar came into the kitchen a few minutes after donning a dry pair of clothes, he found Hazaar making four cups of hot cocoa; two newspapers were found to be lying, all nice and neat, on the kitchen table when he came in too.

Lazeer made wise-cracks about how Bile had looked like a little girl running all about with the icicles stuck in the back of his coat while Bile checked to see if there had been any messages left on the phone. He opened and then read the two papers while the two did them two things.

"Hi ma! We got your message—we got Lazeer to go out; he, like the rest of us, had a blast." Bile said after checking the phone-made messages and then giving their mother, who had been one of the people who had called and then left them a message, a call.

"That's great! Glad that you four had a fun time. You four keeping warm? When did you all get in?" his mother asked.

"About eight... no, ten minutes ago." Bile replied. "We got you enough snow for your snow-cream—it's in the freezer, ma."

"That's fine, Biley. Snow-cream for dessert tonight it is." his mother had a happy tone in her voice. "You four make sure to stay warm, fed, and—"

"Ma?" Bile asked. He felt unnerved; his mother had just become disconnected. He hung the phone up then dialed her number again.

"We're sorry, this number is either not available or not in ser—" a recording started; Bile hung the phone up then started dialing Charles Binkleton's cellular. When he got the same recording, he hung up then dialed the number for the Food Lion that his mother worked at. When the call didn't go through he got very concerned.

"Ma's not answering." he reported. "She called—I called her, and we talked, then she got disconnected. I'm not able to reach—"

"Probably one of the lines got frozen or a limb from a tree—" Lhaklar started to say.

"From her cellular? I don't think so!" Bile exclaimed.

"The snow's falling right bad right now... the satellite probably got blocked because of it." Lhaklar said.

"I also called the store that she works at—no one picked up. It just rang then said unavailable." Bile said.

"Like I said, the weather right now is pretty bad—a tree limb probably went down and snagged a line. The crews will take care of it soon." Lhaklar replied.

"Have you tried Casey?" Hazaar asked. "Momma's friend?"

"No,"

"Try her, maybe she can—"

"Leave her be. If in ten minutes we hear nothing from mom then, yes, call up her friend." Lhaklar said as he placed the paper that he had been reading down on the table. "Quit worrying—mom's cellular always goes out when a storm's on us, and the line down at her workplace always goes out when storms blow through as well. She always calls back to tell us that she's okay after ten minutes pass."

Bile looked out the window that overlooked the kitchen sink; although it was snowing pretty badly there was no wind, so that wouldn't make for the line down at his mother's workplace to be out. He could see his mother's, and Charles Binkleton's, cellular being down because of the satellite being storm-disrupted but the Food Lion's phone line shouldn't be down.

Hazaar placed four glasses, that had steaming hot chocolate in them, down on the table; as he took one of the cups up, then sipped his cocoa, his hands shook slightly—he, too, was nervous about their mother's workplace not being able to be reached and about their mother not being able to be reached. Lazeer was quiet; he had nothing to say at the moment. He only looked down at his hot chocolate; he toyed with the drink but didn't drink any of it. Lhaklar, though trying to be the adult in the house, was also nervous; he forced himself to drink his hot chocolate and he forced himself to stay away from the phone. After two minutes passed, he placed his cup down then went to the phone—upon lifting the phone from its station, then placing it by his ear, he dialed the number that went to their mother's cellular.

All he got was a recording saying that the number that he had called was either unavailable or not in service; with this being noted, he hung up then dialed Charles Binkleton's number. He was met with the same message after only three rings. After hanging the phone up, then waiting a minute before picking it back up again, he dialed the number for the store where his mother worked at; after the sixth ring occurred, he hung up then turned to look at his brothers.

"Should we chance another grounding or—" Lhaklar stopped; Bile had turned around to look at him—his face, alone, was enough to tell him that he was worried about what was going on. "Alright, gather your things. We're heading out to mom's workplace."

"Are we going to walk there?" Lazeer asked. Bile and Hazaar had already gotten up and then ran to the bathroom that their winter things had been placed in.

"No, we're taking the Lucerne." Lhaklar said. He grabbed the set of keys, that were hanging on the cast iron, key-shaped key holder, that went to his mother's car after saying this; his mother's car, a Buick Lucerne, had been discovered one day in very poor shape—it had been nothing more than a rust-bucket then, and it had also been lying on one of its sides to boot. She had fixed the car up herself; had given it brand new, cream-colored leather seats, and polyester upholstery. She had also given the thing a whole new engine as well; the dark red paint that was on the car had been placed there by her too.

Lazeer, after hearing how they were to get to their mother's workplace, got up then joined his brothers in the bathroom; he started throwing his winter clothes on at once. Lhaklar joined him in doing the same thing a few seconds later.


	30. Chapter 30

"Anything on your end?" Angel asked her co-worker, Christie Baker, who was standing beside her.

"Nothing—I can't even call you!" Christie replied.

"What about you, Charles?" Angel asked the manager of her workplace.

"Nada—doesn't show any bars. My phone always lights up when I use it—it's not lighting up at all right now." Charles replied.

"Think it could be an issue with the satellite?" Angel asked.

"No, don't think so. Earthquake, maybe, but, if the satellite got barred from sending a signal, we'd be able to see things on our cellular screens." Charles replied.

"The phone in the office is also not working," Becky Vickers said after stepping out to take her break. "It's as dead as a door knob—I lift it and hear nothing."

"There's no wind to take down any trees but, with the snow falling as heavily as it is, I can see a branch falling on the lines." Charles said. "Ice and snow make for heavy stuff for tree limbs."

"True, but that doesn't give us an answer on why our cellulars don't work though." Christie said.

When the line between her and her family's apartment went dead, she had thought that it was either the wiring that was in the apartment—despite the electrician putting his all into the job of "modernizing" their apartment, he hadn't been able to put efficient enough telephone wiring in the housing that'd allow for one to speak on the phone uninterrupted—or that a limb had blown onto one of the lines that gave the neighborhood where she and her sons lived in access to electricity; to hear that her co-workers weren't able to use their cellulars to call anyone had given her a little cause to be concerned. She had put her cellular to the test in calling Casey right after hearing that her co-workers' cellulars weren't working; her unease had grown after her call hadn't been able to go through to her friend. As a way to put herself at ease, she had gone back to work—and had put the thought into place that her sons wouldn't dare hang up on her and that similar situations had happened in the past.

She had given out several orders of Honey Ham, Roast Ham, and a large bag of Deli Swiss cheese to one of her customers, who had put forth the claim of hosting a small party at her place, before trying her cellular again. To her collective surprise, she had found her cellular to be completely dead after going to try it—no date, no time, no dial tone... it had just been completely dead on her, which was strange as it had been working just fine before.

A long look had been given to the screen of her phone before the decision to go back to work was done. Three bags of Smoked Ham had been made and then given to the same girl that she had waited on earlier; this same girl, who looked no more than college age, and who had already ordered a five pound bag of two types of ham and a five pound bag of cheese, must be having one hell of a party planned—this assumption of hers had only been upped after the girl had asked for a half pound bag of sausage and another five pound bag of Monterey Jack cheese. She had tried her cellular after making and then giving this returned customer of hers her orders—again, it had been found to be dead.

Upon going outside for her ten-minute break, she had asked Charles and Christie Baker if their cellulars were working again; the satellite, she had assumed after being told that they weren't, must really be having a time in getting past the storm to send viable signals to the devices that depended on it. She had no more thought this assumption before Becky Vickers arrived and then announced that the store's main line was also down—she, honestly, couldn't come up with an explanation as to why both the store's main line and the cellular phones were down.

Even though a satellite floated around in space, around the planet that it had been sent to orbit, it wasn't totally safe from having its signals being disrupted; earthquakes were known to disrupt satellite signals and, thus, cellular service, and bad storms were also known to cause a satellite to not be able to send down signals to the towers that the phones got their service from. No earthquake had happened either before or after she had called her family to see if they were alright or not; while she could see a limb falling on a line somewhere that wouldn't explain the store's lines being down—they would of lost both the phone lines and the power to the store if that had happened.

Christie and Becky Vickers, the latter a twenty-two year old woman, who had dark brown hair and blue eyes, and who barely stood five foot, three inches tall, were passing cigarettes back and forth while she and Charles were standing with their backs pressed up against the backwall of their workplace. Of the four of them, she looked to be the only one who was nervous.

"Any further "lawn gnomes" seen on camera?" she asked her boss.

"Not that I've seen." Charles replied. "Surprised over our not seeing them before—ugly little things!"

"At least they were appropriately dressed for the season." Becky said. "Need to charge them for the candy that they've eaten. What was it... ten bars... twelve?"

"Twenty-one bars of candy—little buggers are putting us under with their sneaky fingers!" Charles spat.

Angel suppressed the chuckle that wanted to come out; as of the last couple of days, there had been some interesting captures on the store's security cameras. Charles, during the hours that the store was open to customers, had "the honor" of sitting and watching the screens that the many security cameras were hooked up to while Bruce Henshaw, the store's security officer, kept his eyes on the screens during the hours when the store was closed; neither man had seen the two Goblins on the first day that they started infiltrating the store. On the second day of the Goblins' appearance, they had noticed them. While she called them Goblins—er, more specifically Homsi and Eldass—they called them lawn gnomes.

Charles had tried to get them removed to the back of the store twice now; after seeing the two "lawn gnomes" he had given the order for them to be moved to where the store's spring and summer stuff was kept. Bruce had gone home after heading out to take care of the "lawn gnomes"—a bad case of being freaked out had been the cause for his going home early; apparently, after picking Homsi up, he had found his pick-up baggage to be both breathing and fully mobile. Homsi had told the man to bug off, and then given him a single slap, right after being picked up. The day after, Alexandra Hemmingway, the daughter of the man who ran the joint in downtown Green River called Kale's World, where men and women took off their clothes and then danced to make money, had been given the order to go retrieve and then move the "lawn gnomes" to the store's back; the poor girl had screamed herself raw just before coming into Charles's office—she had quit working at the store right after picking Eldass up. From what the cameras showed, Eldass hadn't only snarled at Alexandra but had also demanded that she put him down at once right after being grabbed and then "hoisted" up from his place near Register 2.

She had also had two encounters with the Goblins. Charles had said for her to relinquish her position at the Deli for a nice, cozy register up front; with Alexandra Hemmingway deciding to wave bye-bye to their establishment, they had been short on people to run the registers. She had seen nine people go down her register's aisle, had made a good profit of three hundred dollars—a quarter of that went to her while the rest went towards her health insurance, retirement, and the works—before Homsi and Eldass were seen as taking up their positions. Eldass, it seemed, was rather fond of the Idaho Spud candy bars while Homsi looked to be rather fond of the Three Musketeers, Mounds, and Almond Joy candy bars. She had purposely bought herself two Valomilk's—a new brand of candy that had a liquid marshmallow filling inside a milk chocolate cup—right after seeing the two men; instead of eating the two bars herself she had "rolled" them out to the two men, who had merely turned their heads down to look at them before bending down to retrieve them. It was quite obvious to her that they had liked what she had given them—lots of "purring" had been heard and their heads had been doing quite a bit of nodding after that first bite was taken.

Her two encounters had been quick ones; the encounter with the man who seemed to have a crush on her had been longer than the ones with the two Goblins by a long shot. Lars St. Charles was a regular at the store and he had one of the worst crushes on her... His crush on her had turned him into being a sort of stalker; he came in, grabbed two or three things from the store shelves, then tracked her down. He'd ask her all sorts of questions like how she wasn't married, why she wasn't with anyone, if she needed a man to help her in the raising of her sons, and if her sons would like to have a father figure in their lives—it was annoying and, sadly, she couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

Mr. St. Charles had walked in on day four of the Goblins' noted appearance; he had taken a bottle of water from one of the store's working refrigerators, and then a simple bag of chips from the refreshment stand that stood on her register's line, before deciding to pay her his unwanted attention. Homsi had been the one to notice the man's antics and, of course, her; the man had just said that she was hot and that she really needed a "good-working, honest man to move in with her and the boys" when the Goblin's attention was gained. Eldass had noticed her on the fifth day of his and Homsi's noted appearance in the store; after spying Mr. St. Charles reaching over to grab a lock of her hair, he had gotten quite steely eyed and angry faced. Although neither of the Goblins had reacted in any hostile ways after seeing her, she had a feeling that the two of them were carrying cameras on them—she had noticed that the two of them were wearing a sort of small, black box on their right temples that had a red light on its end.

She had experienced no further encounters with them; she had been moved back to the Deli section, and had gone back to her usual routine. As far as she knew, the two Goblins had stopped coming to the store.

"Probably got scared and ran for the hills after they saw what all you do in your office." Angel said. Becky and Christie laughed at her joke.

"No, if they would of seen what I do in my office, we'd of seen two very busted up, dead lawn gnomes." Charles replied.

"Is that a confession as to what you do in your office?" Becky asked.

"The store would be lacking one of its employees if I told you." Charles said.

"When I go back in, I'm filling out the form on why I'm quitting." Becky said.

"Fill it out after what Charles just let out," Christie waved her hand back and forth over her face. "Phew! Even outside it stinks!"

"Those who smelt it, dealt it." Charles said.

"What the hell did you eat before lunchtime?" Angel exclaimed. Even she smelled the odor; it seemed to be a mixture of vanilla, death, and decay... her nose just about wanted to curl up into her face, the smell was that damn bad! "Do us all a favor and stay away from... oh gosh, I can't even say it!"

"Women do the toots too, my dear lady." Charles said. "Nothing has slipped out of the hole in my ass in the past thirty minutes."

"Well, whoever did it has one hell of a fart!" Christie exclaimed.

"I thought my kids were bad when it came to having chili for supper." Angel now had the fingers of her right hand clamped over her nose. "That's just revolting!"

"I swear, it wasn't me." Charles said.

Christie and Becky were fast in finishing their cigarette sharing; they went in without saying so much as a thing to Charles or Angel, who followed at their heels a minute to a minute and a half later.

The smell, both she and Charles had noticed, hadn't gone away—in a lot of ways, it had gotten stronger. She had come very close to clamping the full of her hand to her nose just before going in; Charles, who still swore to not being the one who did it, actually played the part of concealing his nose behind the glove of his right hand pretty well. Before going into the store, and then taking her winter wears off and then heading back to her stationed area, she thought that the smell seemed familiar; the vanilla smell mingled in with the smell of death and decay right well... it was so suffocating that it was almost offending.

The employee lounge was where she went after re-entering the store; her coat, gloves, and scarf were removed, then placed in her cubby-space, then she turned to leave the room. Her attention, while on the way to returning to her stationed place that was behind the Deli counter, was derived right after she stepped out from the lounge; to her surprise, Homsi and Eldass, the store's near-week long "lawn gnomes", were both standing before the store's front glass sliding doors. Seeing as the two were usually so fast in sticking near the refreshment stands that were close to where the store's cash registers were, she thought of this as odd; she gave the two men her attention for only a second before resuming her trek to the Deli's counter.

Though she wouldn't think, or say, this out loud, she had become a bit worried about the Goblins in her husband's service almost immediately after returning home with her two, wayward sons. Along with worrying about one or more of the Goblins who had entered the shield that she had made over her sons being injured she had also worried about the pledge that they had forged to her—she knew the rules of The Pledge well and them rules had just about kept her up at night... if one who a Goblin was loyal to acted in any way violent towards said Goblin then said Goblin had right of not only defending themselves but also in severing the bond that was held between them and then putting as much distance between them and their violent employer as possible. Usually, after that happened, the Goblin encountered a life where they'd not ever be hired, or kept on any job for very long, and where they'd not have any type of adequate housing over their heads; the ones in their society would also treat them badly as well. Homsi and Eldass were good Goblins who didn't deserve that; she did hope that they were alright.

After noting the presence of the two men, Angel got serious in working; she went behind the Deli counter then started making the orders for the two men who had been patiently waiting for her return.

"She's in the store now, Tazir." TrobrencusVile said into his mouthpiece. "Had a male and two females with her—the male had red hair."

"Wh... how many kids has she had since her disappearance!" TazirVile's astonished voice rang through the earpiece that was banded to the side of his head.

"From what I saw, he didn't look related. He was young, but she acted more friendly towards him than motherly." TrobrencusVile replied.

"That's a relief! One known child by another man is enough—although I can bet that she's had more than one since disappearing." TazirVile's voice now had a relieved tone to it. "Is everyone in position? We've been waiting for this day for all of a week now."

"My wife will be entering the store here soon—I think them blasted Goblins of yours are in position..." TrobrencusVile looked through the pair of brass and gold binoculars, that had wings of demonic origins etched on the scope parts, that had previously been hanging around his neck; he checked the location of his oldest son, Trivit, then he checked the location of the Goblins who were positioned around the store. "Everyone's in position here—there's no way for her to get away from us on this one."

"Don't you be but so sure of that—my wife is strong, cunning, and powerful." TazirVile said.

"You sure on that latter one? Four, possibly five or six, kids could very well of drained her powers to next to nothing." TrobrencusVile asked his great-great nephew.

"I'm positive that she's still as powerful as she was before she disappeared." TazirVile said. "I can see everything that happens through the camera that my General has—keep on your toes and, do please, don't hurt her but so much. I'm unable to be there so—"

"No worries, I'll do as little damage as I can with her." TrobrencusVile said.

It was in the high twenties; the ground around him was covered in nearly four feet of snow yet here he was... wearing just the two items that he'd wear when he was out on campaign. The pants were as black and as polyester as ever; the red leather material that was stitched into their sides was shiny, but not shiny enough to attract the attention of anyone who was out or about. The heavy-duty, dark red boots that were on his feet had seen many a day on the battlefield; the spikes that were all around on them had a trace of blood on them—along with having blood being flung on him while on the battlefield he had also taken to the liberty of kicking at the enemies who dared to come close to him. Unlike the pants, which were cleaned after every use, the boots were retained of their battle-tracings.

He wore no shirt; he had no coat on nor was he wearing anything else that was called a "winter wear". One would normally freeze to death, or get a bad case of frostbite, by going around, wearing what he was wearing; after conquering twenty year-round cold weather planets, he had grown accustomed to the extremes of cold weather. Like Tazir, he preferred to let his macho, male self out when he conquered; he liked to run around in plain pants and footware instead of having the whole nine yards of clothing on.

Tazir had drawn up the plan for this ambush a week ago but, until now, they hadn't been able to initiate it. He was ready; if not for the lovely creature that owned the darkly beating heart that dwelled within the center of his chest, he would of gone in alone. Bahne had offered to become apart of the mission and she had also insisted on his letting her be involved in it; after finally succumbing to her insistence, he had made a few demands of her. One, that she wear the clothing that was appropriate for such weather that was being experienced—a coat, gloves, hat, scarf, boots, etc.—and two, that she not become involved if the mission suddenly took a southern turn and a fight was encountered. His lovely wife wasn't about to get any colds, or other winter ailments, and neither were any of their kids. The younger kids—Fleebe, Bohir, Syamsin, Tralisa, Impub, and Varaxcan—were, naturally, putting up a fuss over losing time in playing with the white stuff that was falling from the sky while the older ones—Danan, Dazass, Trivit, Celobra, and Benoci—were being as quiet as could be on the issue of going outside; neither he nor his wife had heard or been bent to the whining of the younger kids. They had been kept inside, where it was warm.

Except for him, and his wife, no one of his family had been allowed to take so much as a step from the hallway that his ship's airlock hatchway doors were on. The only reason behind Trivit's, his firstborn son, who was also the only survivor from his and Bahne's first set of twins, being there was because he had also put up a fuss about being involved in the plan. His firstborn son was wearing a very heavy coat and gloves; the scarf that was around his neck was long, but very well insulated, and the hat that was on his head was efficient enough to keep that part of his body warm. The boots that he had put on would keep him from doing the slip 'n slide routine if he came upon any icy areas—his son also had two pairs of socks on just to ensure that his little feetsies didn't get cold.

 _TrobrencusVile remained single for many thousands of years; he didn't marry until meeting the lovely Bahne Brotzol at a party. He claims that an instant attraction was made between the two of them._

 _Many speculate as to why TrobrencusVile hadn't married before then; it is said that he had a son from an illicit affair with a maid that his brother, RosolVile Surfeit, hired after she was dismissed from working for their younger brother, RaalVile Surfeit. No one knows for sure, Trobrencus hasn't agreed, disagreed, or dismissed the speculation. The only thing that is known about him is that, at the time of his marriage to Bahne Brotzol, he was a hundred and three thousand, four hundred, and one years old._

If he could, or was able to track the bastards behind the new edition of The Chronicle of the Surfeit down, he would of done more than dish them a slap across the face—the passage on his "siring a son through an illicit affair with a maid" was wrong on many accounts. Bahne, though not his first by any means, was the only woman that he had fathered offspring with; there had been no children created between he and anyone else that he had taken to bed. That passage, as sad as it was for him to pin it to the man, really needed to be re-worked and then placed in his older brother's chapter—he had fooled around with more than one maid in his service but, of them many fool-arounds, only one had produced a child, who had been a son and who hadn't lived but so long.

His father, though including him in the training that one who was "picked" to follow in dear old daddy's footsteps in becoming a conqueror, had intended for him to be a clergyman instead of a conqueror; the man, who had been as tough as nails, and who had had more than a razor sharp temper to him, had done all in his power to get him ready for adulthood and for the career that he had picked for him to have. Daddy Iack, though rough on him, and though wanting him to be in the clergy, had never said for him to not gain an interest in women or to never become involved with women—though he had an interest in the opposite gender he also had an interest in his own gender; he had noticed his interest in men long before meeting Bahne and, in fact, he had lain in bed with many men before switching over to women. Only after having that first taste of pussy had he decided to settle on having an attraction to both genders.

Daddy had known of his sexual orientation and had done nor said not a thing on it—that had been his grandfather... the heartless shrew had just not had it in him to accept anyone who was of non-straight orientation and he had just plain refused to have anyone of the non-straight orientation around him. He had been beat many times as a youngster but not once had he been beaten for his sexual orientation—for throwing bleach on the newly instated artificial grass of the backyard, and for releasing nearly all of his father's studs, and for causing one of Rosol's horns to break after slamming a rock into his head yes, but never for his interest in the male gender.

Personally, he was glad that he had made the switch to being more interested in females than males; if not for his decision in doing this, he wouldn't have his wife, or their nine surviving children, or their two grandchildren in his life.

"The Old Warrior did what he could to straighten me out so that I'd not fall flat on my face," he thought as he placed the binoculars back to being around his neck.

He had been a bit of a brat as a child; he'd either get the hired help in trouble on purpose, or he'd try to get Rosol in trouble on purpose, or he'd slack off on his schooling, or he'd do stupid things that'd get his father more than a little rip-roaring mad. He had been beat a lot as a child and then teenager—for not keeping himself centered on his schooling; for breaking this expensive thing that he wasn't suppose to touch or that thing that he was told to stay far from; for saying words that were deemed for adults only; for talking back; and for just plain being disrespectful. He had also been beaten for not acquiring the family's principle power—Elemental. Daddy had been very frustrated over the fact that he had only inherited his Energy powers but not his Elemental powers and, though he did try to come to terms with it, he had taken it out on him.

Other than the usual range of discipline, such as a spank here or a slap there, or just plain being yelled at, it had either been one of three things used on him when it came to his needing to be disciplined. A riding crop—this was used whenever his graded papers came back as having a low-grade B or a C sloshed on them, or when he "accidentally" overslept—, the leather strap—this was used when he was especially mouthy, or when he showed any form of weakness when he was training with his powers—, and the leather bull whip—which was used when he was especially bad. As a child and teenager, he had run away from home five times; due to there being no where for him to go—Baba Wex was either always away tending business, or was fooling around with some woman that he had just decided to take up for a few nights worth of sex-play; Poppa Lynk hadn't been accepting of him, so going to be with him hadn't been an option; and his aunts and uncles had all been too far from home to go to for help—he had always returned.

He did speak well of his father—if not for all that he had done with him during his growing-up years, he wouldn't be the man that he was today—and he did miss him, and the rest of their family who had either been claimed by Spli or Shlock's Plague, terribly.

 _TrobrencusVile Surfeit has been known as a fierce protector of his family._

They had gotten that right! He was both fierce and protective of his family, Angel Irene and her sons included in the mix, for a reason—they were of him. They carried blood that had aided in his creation in their veins, which meant that they and he were forever to be connected.

Like with everyone else, he had grieved when Angel had left with her sons and, like with everyone else, he had put a good amount of effort in on looking for them. The grieving process, though well hidden from everyone, had been hard on him after the searching was called to a close and then after them tombstones were shown in the cemetery. He and Angel might not of had the strongest of relationships between them—at the time of her disappearance, they had still been learning about and getting to know one another—but she had been family of his. Angel had taken things slow with him, which he did appreciate. He hated that _oh hi, I'm such-and-such_ , _I'm your friend and will always be so you want to go out and play some ball or get drinks at the local bar_ that some people did to get on another's good side—a lot of the time, these people dropped you as soon as that so-called friendship was started, or only used you to get things after that friendship was started. She had taken it slow; she had given him his space and the respect that he deserved to have and, really, he had reciprocated this with her. Oh, they had had their differences—how one handled, or treated, their staff, for example—but neither had held them against them.

Bahne had either mailed her letters, or had spoken with her on the phone, or had hung around her when they went over to spend time with her and her family, as many times as he had; according to his wife, the girl was as decent, polite, and respectful as could be. Like he, Bahne had also been hurt by Angel's disappearance; now that she, and three of her four sons, had been found, she was happy again and, really, so was he. There was no more of that _if she was here_ talk at the table and there was no of that _I wonder what they'd look like now_ talk in the bed; it was now _I can't believe how good she looks after raising three boys practically on her own_ , _Bile is so big and strong now_ , _Lhaklar looks so strong and mature now,_ and _Hazaar looks very well grown_. He had taken all of that talk with a smile on his face—he wasn't just sitting back, taking in this talk as a simple listener or bystander; he was being involved in it.

Really, there was only one thing that he was in agreement with; everyone claimed that the boys were too big and were pushing themselves, and their growths, too far and he believed this full heartily. Hazaar still had that immature look to him and yet, from what his father had said, he had man's muscle on him; that was not good for one his age. He thought the same about Lhaklar, who had been described as having a similar body full of muscle as well. Bile was especially too big and muscled for his age—the boys were all in their mid-teenage years yet they had muscles fit for only a full grown man on their bodies... this would make for a severe off-balancing later on in life after they reached the periods where their second and then third growth spurts kicked in. Bohir was well muscled for his age but not so much so that he looked off in appearance—he was firm on his son not going over the limit that he set for him in the gym back home or do anything overly strenuous; he had done the same limitations on gym exercising on Trivit when he had been Bohir's age and he had plans to do the same with Impub after he reached Bohir's age. Baruk had a good, solid body of muscle on him—his physical appearance had been inherited from his father, and he knew that the man kept a good eye on his boy when he was working out in the gym. The same seemed to be happening with Baruk's younger brother, Sudir, and with Gaajah and his younger brother, Selik, as well. All of the boys who hadn't disappeared for over a thousand years were maturing well; they were not rushing their growth and were being kept on schedule. Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar looked as if they were rushing their growth. He was particularly worried about their involvement in the hunt; no male child, whether his or another in the family's, went out to hunt or had so much as picked up a tool that one used while hunting. Bile was really running a risk on getting injured through hunting and Angel was really not raising her sons right by letting them hunt; he was also concerned over her allowing the boys to go out on the town on their own.

With all of these thoughts either thought of or packed firmly in his mind, he grabbed the little mirror that was swinging loosely on his belt. He tilted it up then watched as the reflection danced along on the building and then on the many things that overlooked the building; Bahne, who was on the other side of the store, saw the glare of the mirror immediately then took to the agreed upon plan on her going into the store to find the one that they were there to retrieve.

"You must be having one hell of a party, miss." Angel said to the girl who was her now twice returned customer.

"I am—block party." the girl replied.

"Am I going to read anything about it in the newspaper tomorrow?" Angel asked. "Or hear about it on the news?"

"We'll try to keep it down but... no promises." the girl winked. "Cheddar cheese—about three pounds will do it—, and a two and a half pound bag of Salami and a four pound bag of Bologna please."

"My goodness! You'll have enough to feed an army after I fill this order!" Angel exclaimed, she went to the slicer then started the process of making the order for a three pound bag of Cheddar cheese first. "My boys haven't been invited to the party, have they?"

"I don't know, who are they?" the girl, who had platinum blonde hair and glassy green eyes, asked.

"Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer."

"You're Bile's mom?" the girl gasped. "He's always speaking about you—he seems to be very fond of you."

"He's one of my boys—the oldest, in fact."

"I've seen, and spoken to Lhaklar from time to time as well. He's right nice—but he does seem to have a way with flirting." the girl said.

"He's a good boy. Very mature." Angel replied. She placed the Cheddar Cheese order in a bag, then placed a tag on it, then went on to get the Salami log from the Deli's glass counter.

"Name's Delina," the girl said.

"Angel,"

"Nice to meet you." Delina said.

Before she could start slicing the Salami log, the girl asked if she could get the slices to be half an inch in thickness; she said that she'd try her best in getting the machine to do that then went on to making the rest of the girl's order.

The slicer was an "elder" in the store; it had been in use since the 1990's and, although Charles was constantly saying that it needed to be replaced, it never was. Like any other old machine, the store's deli slicer did require frequent repairs—the last time that it had been repaired was a week and two days ago. According to Charles, who claimed to want to throw two to five grand on the newer model, that would do the weighing, and bagging, and sticker placing, all on its own, the newer model deli slicers were more efficient than the older model ones—though she hated to disagree with the man she did do so on this instance. She did her best in keeping the store's slicer clean, and she did try to keep it working—Lazeer, who was a whiz with mechanical things, had come in one day after light's out two months ago to personally see about fixing it; it had been her idea to "sneak" him in and it had also been her idea to ask him to fix the machine up.

She finished making Delina's order; the three bags had just been placed before the girl when the girl decided that she'd also like to have a four pound bag of Italian Blend and a two and a half pound bag of American. She, who had a feeling that her customer was really going to be having more than a blast at her planned party, made them two orders up then gave them over; during the process of her taking the block of American and Italian Blend cheese from the Deli's glass counter, something caught her eye. A woman, who, at first, she perceived as just being another customer, had come up to stand behind Delina. This woman, at first glance, looked very pretty.

It was only after seeing Delina off that she got her first, real good look at her new customer. The woman who stepped up to her station's appointed counter was no more than Bahne Surfeit—if not for them bright, solid blue eyes of hers, she really would pass off as being a human.

"Hello, Angel." Bahne said.

"Bahne," Angel said. "Looks like you haven't changed any."

"Other than having two more children, there's nothing different about me." Bahne replied.

"Really? Congratulations." Angel said.

"Thanks. So, I see that you went from being a wife of a conqueror to a single mother who has a peasant's job." Bahne said.

"Have to do something to have funds for my boys," Angel replied. "Their clothing, eats, and interests don't buy themselves nor are free."

"True, a mother has to do what she has to do." Bahne said. "So, what all is in your Earthly household? Five... six?"

"Just my four boys and I." Angel replied.

Despite having added two more children to her already large family, Bahne looked very fine and very much the same as she had been on the day that she had "disappeared" with the boys. The hair was still long; it went to just barely the middle of her back, and it was still a nice, creamy-blonde color. Her solid blue eyes were still as bright and as youthful as ever. Her figure was still hourglass-like; the breasts that were on her top half were a little bigger than they had been when she and the boys left Moas but her hips were still much the same. The heart-shaped face was still the same; it looked like she had a little bit of eye-shadow and blush on it.

This woman, who stood five foot, five inches tall, was wearing a purple faux fur coat; the gloves and scarf were also purple. The cossack hat was a unisex purple color. A quick glance down told her that the outfit that Bahne was wearing underneath her winter clothes was red; the boots that were on her feet were purple and had a purple faux fur around the tops. The heels that were on these boots looked to be two and a half inches.

When movement caught her attention to the left, she looked in that direction; Homsi and Eldass had moved from their previous location before the store's front doors, they were now standing just within the Deli department. A quick glance at their faces told her that they were serious on being here.

"Right cold out," Bahne said. "How is it that you picked such a location to raise your sons in?"

"I didn't raise them here," Angel replied. "We've been here for a little over three hundred years. My boys were raised up north of here—insurance against the plagues; they didn't like the colder climates."

"Still, though, your sons could of gotten very sick." Bahne said.

"They could of, yes—and they did get a few colds from time to time, but nothing serious. They enjoyed it—like any other child, they loved, and they still love, the snow." Angel replied.

"Colds can get worse, though." Bahne said.

"When the house isn't fully insulated, and the property owner doesn't take care of it, yes, they can." Angel said. "My sons were, and are, being raised fine."

"And the hunting..." Bahne trailed off.

"All four hunt—when the time was right, they started learning from me the tricks of the trade. They're exceptional hunters." Angel said quickly. "Bile and Lhaklar especially so."

"They could get very hurt." Bahne said.

"I trained them efficiently—they have gotten hurt from time to time but they've learned by their missteps during the hunt." Angel said, she was now getting annoyed.

"You don't sound very concerned." Bahne said.

"How is it that you found your way into the shield?" Angel asked. "I'm at work so, if you wish to get into any squabbles with me over how I'm raising my sons, you'll have to wait until I get off."

Bahne smiled at this question; her family had wanted someone who was more experienced with Angel, and who was closer to Angel, to go in to speak with and then get her to come out from the place that she worked at. Her husband had been adamant on it being he who would go in to retrieve the one that they were hoping to claim that day; Trobrencus could be a rather loud man when it came to important meetings and he had used this loudness to his advantage in gaining what he had wanted—which had been his being "elected" to go into the shield and then retrieve Angel and then bring her back to camp. Tazir, her husband's smart and very mentally, physically, and emotionally strong great-great nephew, and Shaam, her husband's sweet-tempered nephew, who could turn on a dime to becoming as mean and as cruel as could be, had done their best to have Kuruk, another of her husband's great-great nephews, who wasn't only very bright upstairs but also very strong, mighty, cruel, mean, and dangerous, go into the shield—her husband had insisted on their changing their minds on that.

Near the end of the meeting that had happened two days ago, her husband had leaned back in the chair that he had been given to sit in and then said, as if it meant very little to him, but which had meant quite a lot to him, something about the Disruptor Ray that he had on his ship.

She had gotten such a chill from his mentioning that Disruptor Ray; he had used it numerous times as a sort of calling card—it was almost always used when he went in to conquer a planet. All her husband had to do was point the big behemoth towards the satellite, if there were any, that rotated around the planet that he was about to enter, press the trigger to get the information on the satellite, configure it, then send out a signal that would shut the satellite down until he was either on the planet and then briefing his troops on what they were to do or after he was done conquering. There were only a small handful of times where the populace of the planets that he had gone to conquer would unscramble their satellites before he had either entered their planet or had finished conquering their planet.

The Disruptor Ray caused all conversation via a phone—both the main line, that fed into both business and housing units, and cellular—to not happen and it also made for television and radio signals to be down. It really made for some messy situations, and for a lot of confusion; her husband had used that confusion to the full extent when he had been conquering the Cenup Galaxy. The old record, that had lasted for a thousand years, had been smashed by him on that conquest; very few had attempted to conquer a galaxy that had a thousand planets in it and very few had tried to break the record that her husband had set—that one year and six months had been dropped to a mere six months when her husband went in to conquer the Cenup Galaxy.

Tazir had supplied a small lot of his Goblin army for the agreed upon plan to go smoother; the handpicked individuals had gone through the shield first, then had blasted a hole in it so her husband, Trivit, and she could get in, then her husband had taken over. Trobrencus wasn't too keen on the Goblins and, in fact, neither was she—some of Tazir's handpicked Goblins had been struck for simply standing around, doing nothing but glaring and snarling at him, and a small handful had actually been picked up and then thrown after having the nerve to lunge at their Commander. She was much like her husband when it came to ones staff and armies—they should be obedient at all times. To her, the Goblins, both in Tazir's staff and in his military, were just not that. They obeyed Tazir well—they snapped at attention for him while, for anyone else, they simply didn't listen, and they also got violent towards said person. When it was needed, she and her husband reprimanded their staff, and her husband was particularly hard on the ones that he employed to be in his military—they didn't get hired for no reason; whether it was in their house or out on the battlefield, there was just no excuse for any laziness. If she had to, the two Goblins that were standing by the area that she was in with Angel would be reprimanded if they didn't behave themselves.

"As you can tell, we have the store on the inside." Bahne waved her hand back, towards the two Goblins who had placed themselves at the Deli's entrance.

"I can—I've noticed Homsi and Eldass over there now what's your point in taking the store?"

"To have you come out on your own," Bahne said. She held a silver communicator, that had a large speaker on it, that looked to be made out of diamonds, up. "All I'd have to do is say that you're giving us grief in here—my husband, along with the Goblins that're stationed around the store, will come in afterwards.

"I take it that you think that since I have a job, and have raised four sons on my own, that I've gone domestic?"

"Is that my answer?" Bahne's finger was hovering over the initiate button that was on her communicator's side. "You coming willingly, or will my husband have to come in to get you?"

"I suppose a little common decency is in order," Angel said. "Let me grab my things—I am not stepping foot outside without something on me."

"Fair enough," Bahne smiled, then waved her arm forward. Homsi and Eldass walked over; they were quiet when they walked around to the employee-only side of the Deli's counter. "See you in a minute."

"And a half." Angel said.

Nothing was said between her and the Goblins; Homsi and Eldass, though looking dead serious in their given task, and though also looking disgusted in having to obey an order given to them by someone that they weren't loyal to, escorted her to the employee lounge then simply stood by as she got herself ready to go outside.

The long sleeve, sheepskin Bohemian coat and the dark brown pair of suede gloves were taken from her cubby and then put on; the belt that was on the coat had no more been pulled in around her when she went to take up the scarf and the hat that were also in her cubby. She was just reaching to grab her purse when Eldass lunged at her; he grabbed the bag, then backed away from her, then simply stared at the wall. She gave the Goblin a wary look before going on to putting her snow boots on; with herself ready to leave the store, and with her mind set on the task that had suddenly been thrown at her, she left the lounge. Eldass and Homsi followed behind her at first before taking up position on either side of her. With things being as they were, she figured that she didn't need to punch out—everyone could see what was going on. Though placid now, she really had no intention of going quietly—with it being nearly twenty minutes since she and her sons had last spoken with one another, she also figured that, sooner or later, one or all four of them would show up to see what was going on. She not only had to get herself mentally prepared for the task in making a clean escape from her "captors" but she also had to get herself prepared for protecting her young, who she didn't want to be hurt by anyone who might just take them, and their protective ways, in the wrong light.

Bahne, after smiling at her, then nodding her head, took to leading them out of the store; Eldass only gave the purse that he had in his possession to her after they had reached the store's sliding glass doors. With her being all boxed up between Homsi and Eldass, and with Bahne leading them out of the store, it really looked like one of them old timey boxing meets was going on—Bahne was the "trainer" while she, who was in the middle of all of this, was the champ; Homsi and Eldass were just the "crew" who had been hired to keep her safe from the "spectators". Although she was confident in her ability of being able to handle the situation on her own she had a slight worry on her mind on what was going to happen with her sons—she was not going to let them get hurt, or be captured, or taken from her. She did hope that her sons would make an appearance; she'd feel much more comfortable with knowing that they were where they were suppose to be and she'd also feel much more comfortable with having them around her.

"Trob? Trivit? We're out of the store—she came willingly." Bahne said after the store's front sliding doors slid shut on them.

"On my way." Trobrencus's low, weasel-like voice, that had a growl-like undertone to it that'd make anyone who wasn't related to him cringe, said back.

"Same here," the voice belonging to none other than TrivitVile Afck Surfeit said.

The sky, she noticed, was overcast in light gray clouds; even though it was snowing pretty heavily, it looked like the sun was about to come out—if this happened, Lazeer would be in danger of having his photo sensitive eye be exposed to the very thing that it was sensitive to. She could barely see anything that was going on around her; the wind, at almost that precise moment, started to howl, which only gave the moment a spooky feeling. Angel shivered once; Eldass noticed her shiver then placed his hand on her arm. She looked down, nodded her head, then looked over to the side when she heard the snow being crunched on. As if from a bad dream, TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit walked out from the heavy snow with his son, TrivitVile, at his side; Angel shook her head right after seeing the two of them. While Trivit was wearing items appropriate for the weather Trobrencus was not—he was just wearing a pair of pants, that looked to have a red stripe on their sides, and a pair of heavy boots. How the man was able to walk around without having anything to protect his Zombie-like body was beyond her.

"Well now, my great-great nephew's Ragamuffin decided to come willingly for us," TrobrencusVile said after reaching them. "You look well for both being on your own for so long and for raising several children on your own."

"George A. Romero the fifth would _really_ like to have your calling card," Angel said.

"Really now? That witty franchise is still wheeling out flicks?" TrobrencusVile asked.

"Death Watch Camp came out just last year." Angel replied.

TrobrencusVile rolled his eyes; one day, while speaking with Angel over the phone, she had mentioned something about his reminding her of the beasts that some man named George A. Romero had created and then produced a cult following of. The man called movies "flicks" and he had been interested in what she had told him about on this man's produced "flicks"; he had asked TazirVile to get one of his staff to go down to Earth to retrieve some of the man's "flicks" and TazirVile had complied with his wish. Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Land of the Dead, Diary of the Dead, and the first remake of Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead was what had been brought back, and then given to him, and then watched by him; after watching these films, he had simply locked them up. His wife, nor any of his children, would never watch them—he feared that they'd become mentally scarred from watching the abominations, as he called them, and he wanted to do everything in his power to prevent this from happening.

It wasn't so much the gore and violence that had bothered him—they had, but he, being a man, had been able to handle them—it was the depiction of the other half of him that bothered him. He had been offended by seeing them creatures, who walked around, terrifying, and eating the flesh of the normal-living humans, and who seemed to be as mindless as could be; the Zomo race, while maybe not being as smart as most other species in the Universe, was a very intelligent species who would never go around, biting limbs, or pieces of flesh, from another living being.

He was much more stronger, healthier, handsomer, and smarter than the creatures in the flicks. For her to say that the humans were still chucking out them crap flicks told him that the humans still had bad tastes in movies.

"They said that you'd be a difficult one to catch," TrobrencusVile said. "Don't look so to me."

"Who says that I'm not." Angel replied. "Aren't you cold?"

"My husband has a natural warmth to him," Bahne said fondly. "He's like a big, ol' cuddly bear—only sweeter."

TrobrencusVile had a square-shaped chest that had visible veins crossing all over it; his six-pack was very firm and nicely toned while his arms looked to be rock-hard with ample amounts of muscle. His body, much like his head, was bi-colored, with the left side being a light blue color and the right being a creamy color. His chest had several patches of either dark blue or dark purple flesh on it; the patches of flesh that were on his stomach, sides, and arms were a dark red color and were just dangling loosely from his body. There were more than a dozen scars crisscrossing his chest and stomach areas; his arms were also scarred up.

After acknowledging her, then having a short conversation with her, Trobrencus pulled his hand up then tapped the black muff that was on the left side of his head—she had only just noticed this muff and, owing to it having a sort of long, silver stick coming from it, she knew that it wasn't something with which to keep him warm with. She guessed that this item, which, she also now noticed, had a red light on the end of its long, silver stick, was a communications device of some sort. Angel took a single step back, then another and another and another; she was just turning to go back to the store when Eldass appeared at her side. He touched her arm then guided her back to being beside Homsi—judging by how he had touched her, she guessed that he had only come to retrieve her after seeing that she had grown "cold" and then taken a few steps back to gain control of herself.

Charles, Christie, and Becky, and all of the other people that she worked with, were standing before the store's sliding glass doors; though curious over what was going on they also looked quite perturbed and scared by the sight that was going on before them.

"Tazir, we have your wife." TrobrencusVile said into the end of the black muff's long, silver stick. "We're bringing her out."

"Any fuss involved?" TazirVile sounded concerned.

"None, she came out willingly."

"Keep on your toes!" Angel heard her father say crispily. "She's not to be trusted as far as—"

"Bring her out—be careful with her please." TazirVile said.

It seemed to be an on-cue thing because, right after Trobrencus spoke to her husband, and then grabbed her by the arm, the snow and fog blew away; she was able to see the parking lot, the store, and the area that was around the store quite well and she was also able to take note of her car being parked ten or so yards from her. Trobrencus's hand had just settled over her arm when her youngest son charged out from underneath one of the parking lot's many light poles; the icicle that he created, and then threw at the man's back, struck home right on his shoulder. Trobrencus howled once, then reached the hand that had just been evicted from her arm around to the shoulder that had just been injured; Bahne was fast in gasping after she saw the sight of her husband's dark olive green colored blood dripping from the hand that had just touched the wound that had just been created on his back.

TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, the secondborn son of IackVile Uovo Surfeit and Birava Yamubabba, turned right after seeing the blood dripping from his hand; he had no more turned to face her son, who had since gone to war with TrivitVile, when Bile grabbed him from the side. Bile heaved him up by his shoulders then threw him as savagely as he could towards the cars that were parked on Row 4—all sorts of car alarms went off after the man's bulk slammed into one of them, then made the car that he had landed on slide a few feet to the next car, which also slid back to strike the car that was beside it. She and Bahne watched this in stunned disbelief for only a second before moving off—Eldass took her by the wrist then started moving her from the area right when Hazaar ran up; her thirdborn son imitated Bile's move by grabbing Eldass by his shoulders then throwing him. Charles, Christie, Becky, and the rest of her co-workers screamed when the Goblin crashed through the glass doors of the store; Eldass picked himself up quickly, brushed the glass from his body, then bolted from the store right when her thirdborn son started fighting Homsi. By the time he left the store, she had reached her Buick Lucerne.

"Hi mom—we got here as fast as we could." Lhaklar said after his mother reached the car, which he was leaning up against.

"Who drove?" Angel asked.

"Me," Lhaklar answered. "The car would of gotten here as being only half-intact if Bile had driven us here."

"Very funny, Lhakie." Angel said. With this being said, she turned towards the fighting that was going on in the parking lot; Lhaklar, once he was sure that she was safe, nodded his head then went to join the fighting.

Amid the mix of anger, he couldn't help but feel a sort of pity for the youngster who looked to want to go to war with him; like himself, he had no winter wears on and he was completely naked from the top on down to his waist. With his wearing a shirt, he hadn't looked to have but so much muscle on his top half; oh, he had looked big but not big as in muscle-big. With Bile wearing no shirt, he was able to take in all of what he had on him; the chest was very thick in muscle, the six-pack was very powerful, and them arms were just as finely muscled as could be. He saw all of this in a sad way; again, the youngster had pushed himself to gain a grown man's body that would, in the future, not hold up against the demands of his physical self going through its second and then third growth spurts. Warrior Daddy, though being a bit hard on him for his being nearly obese, had been fine with his size and girth; he would never of let him get to being as burly as he was now when he was the age that Bile was.

Trobrencus looked over to the left slightly; it looked like his firstborn son was well within his element against the youth who had been seen on Zeta Ren in August. Except for his lack of wearing gloves, the youth was very appropriately attired for the weather and he looked very limber; he was confident over his grown son's ability in being able to both take him down and to not hurt him but so much.

TrobrencusVile turned his attention back to Bile after taking in what the youth and his son were doing—the kid slammed himself into him at that precise moment; he had no choice but to put his arms up to protect his face after the collision sent him flying towards the very same cars that he had been thrown towards. After gaining to his feet, then noticing that the kid was advancing towards him, he put his hands up; two strong punches were thrown in the youngster's direction—the youngster, to his great surprise, not only avoided his punches but also threw a single punch at him. He saw stars after Bile's fist went pow-wow on the side of his face; three more punches were given to him—one, of which, caused his nose to break—before he decided to fight back.

"Oh, not the cars!" Angel groaned after TrobrencusVile picked her son up then slammed him to one of the cars that he, himself, had been thrown towards. Though the blame for the many damages that had been done to the vehicles wouldn't be placed fully on her she imagined that the store's management would be bombarded with insurance calls here in the next few days.

Bile leaped from the car that he had been slammed to then swung his fist; Trobrencus's ribs, Angel was quite sure, were either badly cracked, bruised, or broken on that swing—the man gasped loudly, then grabbed at his side, then went on to fighting her son.

To her, the two, a mature man and a mid-teenage boy, looked very well matched—as soon as Bile swung a fist, or picked and then heaved Trobrencus to one of the cars, or to the asphalt, Trobrencus would do the same to him. Trobrencus tried to catch her son in the face several times but her son was fast in getting his head out of the way. Bile used his body like a battering ram after dodging two blows; her oldest son sent his opponent flying three times before stopping and then reaching his hands down to the waist of his pants. She saw two glints of silver then produced a half-smile—her oldest son had taken a pair of bronze knuckles out from the inside of the waist of his pants; how he had gotten them was beyond her but he had them and, what's more, he was using them to perfection. Blood, and then sparks, flew from Trobrencus as Bile swung his now bronze knuckled fists at his face and body. Trobrencus swung back several times; he caught her son on the back twice, then in the ribs four times, before clipping her son on the shoulder.

"Lhaklar, you wouldn't do what I think you're about to do now are you?" Bahne asked her great-great-great-great nephew, who had just placed himself before her. "You know that your father wouldn't approve of you fighting a girl."

"Quit acting like you're about to become involved then." Lhaklar spat.

"Young Man!" Bahne swung her hand; a purple sphere of energy flew at Lhaklar. Angel's secondborn son leaned to the side to avoid it then ran towards her.

She threw several energy strands, a sonic blast, and then a tornado of red energy at Lhaklar—while the former attacks missed him by a mile she did achieve a small victory when her energy tornado stripped him of the jacket that he was wearing. She was just gearing up to send another attack at the boy when she was struck; Lhaklar ran into her, then grabbed her, then threw her to the side before turning to go back to fighting the Goblin who had ganged up on Hazaar. She got to her feet quickly then ran forward; with a single leap, she landed right on the youngster's back—this action of hers was no more done before she found herself in trouble.

Just as her husband spat out blood, then saw her clinging to the back of the youngster who was Tazir's oldest-born son, Lhaklar reached back then threw her off him. He turned around then advanced on her—the speed of this advance was what caused her to be temporarily paralyzed with fear and to temporarily forget what was going on around her. Lhaklar had a set of finger-knives on his fingers; they looked to be made out of stainless steel and they also looked to be very sharp—he swiped these down and at an angle. Her arm, right between the elbow and shoulder, was sliced open. She got to her knees then fell to her side; when she looked up, she that her husband had placed himself between her and Lhaklar. Her husband was now taking on two instead of one.

"You both will have a lot to talk about when your fathers see you next!" TrobrencusVile shouted as he ran forward.

Lhaklar was fast in swinging himself around the Zombie-man; after getting himself in position, he started swinging at his unprotected side—as he saw it, his brother was concentrating on just the front-side of the man while the backside was just being ignored. There were all sorts of muscle groups on the back of a person that could be tapped, and any one of them muscles could bring your opponent down in nothing flat. All sorts of cuts were made to the man's back, which looked to have more than enough scarring on it; he hoped that the cuts that his finger-knives had just created would scar up and then join the already present scars—they'd be good tell-alls on who not to mess with.

He caused ten cuts to appear on the man's back; when he swung his hand back, intending to add more to what he had just placed, the man turned around. The large, light blue hand grabbed him by the throat then heaved him up; he was on his back, and wheezing and gasping for air, in no time.

Bile, who was now filled with a deadly, dangerous anger, leaped forward after seeing his younger brother being body-slammed; he started upper-chopping, kicking, and then head-butting the man right after colliding with him. Only when the man fell to his rump did he back away; the man, like on the other falls that he had experienced, got up fast then came back at him, so he wasn't given a break. He took a swing to the face before stepping to the side; Trobrencus, who, he had noticed, had stepped onto a patch of ice, slipped then slid face-first into one of the cars that already had more than enough dents and scratches in it to last a lifetime. Instead of simply tasting the side of the car, Trobrencus went through its driver's side window.

Bile grabbed the man by his shoulders, then tore him out of the car, then gave him six punches to the face, then threw him back to the very car that he had previously struck. This was done a total of three times before a sort of growl emitted from his opponent; Trobrencus managed to slip from his grasp, then slide to being behind him, before he could figure out what was going on. When the hands landed on his shoulders, he, like a raging locomotive, roared then reached down; he grabbed Trobrencus by his leg then ripped his arm forward. Due to the back of his head striking the iced-over asphalt, TrobrencusVile saw stars right after colliding with the ground. With his opponent momentarily down for the count, he raised his foot up; he kicked it right into the side of the Zombie-man's face twice before rising it again. The falling action of his stomp caused the man to snap his eyes shut; TrobrencusVile, who thought that the youngster was going to stomp on his head, was slightly confused after finding that he was on the other side of the shield a few seconds later.

"Enjoy the cold, the snow, and all the aches and pains that I gave you you bastard!" Bile yelled as he then threw his arms to the side; the portion of the shield that had been taken down was automatically repaired by him a second later.

"Baaaaahnnnaaay!" TrobrencusVile shrieked after realizing that he was now away from his wife and that he couldn't get to her.

Trobrencus didn't yell for his wife for long; she followed him to the shield's other side ten to twenty seconds after him. His wife would say, a few hours after everyone was calm, that Lhaklar had acted like he was going to stomp her face in instead of evicting her from Green River, Wyoming. When she appeared thirty feet from her husband, her husband wasted no time in going to her or in getting her up and then going towards camp—her arm, he noticed, was gushing blood; she was cold and terribly frightened and that only added fuel to his temper. After sending his wife back to camp, he started pacing the outside of the shield; while Cyla and Irka rushed his wife into his ship, then started the process of hearing her tell the fragmented tale of what happened, he yelled for his son.

Angel, not one second after Trobrencus started yelling for his son to exit the shield, and to leave the fight, found herself surrounded by Goblins who were wearing army uniforms; she started fighting them at once. Eldass was expelled from the shield right after she started in on the Goblins; Hazaar, who was still fighting Homsi, was the one to evict him from Green River, Wyoming. Lazeer, she noticed, was still holding his own with TrivitVile. Lhaklar, after gaining his breath and bearings, rushed over to help her in fighting off the Goblins; Bile joined him a second and a half later.

 _"He's like a piece of iron."_

That was what the character of Ivan Drago had described his then-opponent, Rocky Balboa, as being and, really, that was what he pinned to the Reezal boy; he had a body like that of steel, he was fast, and he had very good reflexes. He was having trouble in keeping up with the kid and he was also having trouble in keeping him down after he managed to deliver a good enough punch that either brought him to his knees or to his stomach. The kid was an obvious user of Acidic powers as well—his fists, he was quite sure, were laced with acid... his coat had more than six acid-burns and holes in it and his face had a fist-sized acid burn on it.

The youngster was also very keen on using the environment and the items around him during a fight as well; twice now he had tried to choke him into submission by grabbing and then yanking his scarf back. He had reacted on the second submission attempt by ripping his scarf off; as a precaution, his gloves and hat had also been discarded.

He threw two punches towards the youth's mid-section—quite possibly a good blow to the stomach, or to the ribs, would take him out or cause him to back down long enough for him to join his hysterical father, who was both pacing and yelling himself into a frenzy on the shield's other side. The youth managed to evade both of his punches; without notice, the youth swung his fist—the gale of black acid not only caused him to scream in agony but also take a dozen or so steps back. After this blow was given to him, he swung his fist low—a low-blow to the groin, or to the kidney, would take the kid out... he was sure of it!

The youth, instead of being struck on one of his two delicate areas, jumped back then lunged forward; he grabbed him by the back of his coat. He felt his coat being yanked up, and then over, his head. With himself temporarily blinded, he started flinging his arms about—he had no more started doing this before feeling the flesh of his back being burned. The kid, he knew, had covered his backside in a layer of acid and then had had the nerve to use his Energy powers on him.

"Got plenty more for you, Bastard!" the youth said after he finally got his coat unhooked from around his head.

Angel made two flames appear in the palms of her hands then brought her hands together—in one motion, she flipped her hands out then shot a jet of white fire at the Goblins, who were stationed all around her. Twenty of the fifty were driven back while the rest rushed in to continue their assault. She had just to look at the Goblins that were fighting her to know that they were different than Homsi and the rest of Tazir's staff; Homsi and Eldass were only fighting in defense, these military Goblins were doing nothing more than Thrill-Fighting.

Bile ran into the circle that surrounded her; he sent out two fire jets and then a comet of blue fire—this latter attack of his caused five of the Goblins to be evicted from the shield. Lhaklar kicked the ground up; he sent two Goblins flying out of the shield before turning around. He slashed his finger-knives at the Goblins who had started attacking him; several were run off with bad injuries while others simply ducked or dodged his intended assaults. He had just sent two off with nasty injuries to the arms when he felt three bodies collide with his backside; these people wasted no time in climbing up his back or in taking him to his knees.

When she saw that her secondborn son had been taken down, she punched her fist down onto the asphalt of the parking lot; snow and ice flew up while the ground rolled back. The Goblins who were on her son, and who were standing around him, were automatically sent flying after her attack struck them.

"Hazaar!" Angel yelled as she went to Lhaklar's side. "Leave Homsi be! Concentrate on these idiots!"

For Homsi, the blue energy sphere that he had sent out at his opponent seemed to be only emphasis to give the youngster the initiative in doing as his mother had said for him to do; Young Master Hazaar turned on his heels then fled in the direction of his mother and brothers. He started fighting the Goblins who were circling his mother and brothers right after entering the circle that surrounded them. With his opponent now gone, he chanced a look to the right; the Reezal boy and TrivitVile were still fighting, and causing one another grief. After taking in them two, he took off in the direction that his employer's secondborn son had gone in—there was a lot of yelling, screaming, and hollering coming from that direction and there was a lot of fighting going on in that direction and his employer's family was in that direction; he couldn't just standby and watch as his Mistress and her sons were injured, he had to help them.

The man who had taken his cane to him on any chance that he saw proper—which was whenever his employer's back was turned—was yelling up a storm for his son to exit the shield; he neither paid him, who had also struck several of his co-workers with his bloody cane over the last few months, any concern or further attention after deciding to go for the communicator that was on his belt. His employer had gotten one of his Generals to wear a camera just before sending him and the other handpicked individuals who had made up the small platoon to the shield's interior; either the man had turned the camera off or had decided to discard it from his person—knowing how one who was a Military Goblin was, he wouldn't put it past the guy if he had done both.

"Master Tazir—there are complications in the field! What are your instructions?" he came very close to losing his communicator after entering the circle of Goblins who were fighting his employer's wife and sons.

"Homsi! What the hell is going on out there? Bahne came in injured—she's saying that there was an ambush. I lost the signal for the camera—what's going on?"

"The men that you assigned for the plan have turned on your wife and sons!" nothing more was said; his communicator was dropped then he started fighting the men who were trying to do harm to the ones that he was loyal to.

Bile, after seeing the new Goblin joining the others in the circle that were fighting him and his family, turned to both eliminate him from the circle and to gain a small bit of relief; he was exhausted, he was feeling more than a dozen pains, and he was disorientated. Before he could strike the Goblin out, or send any range of attacks at him, he was ganged up on by five Goblins, who had come up from behind him. They brought him to his knees then started pummeling him; he, with a roar, jerked his body up and then swung it around. He had just sent the five Goblins packing when another Goblin ran head-first into the back of his knees; once he was down, this same fellow kicked him in the face—after sliding a foot or so on the asphalt, he collided with a car. He had only just landed against this car when the Goblin's foot sailed home into his groin; rivets of pain ricocheted up and down his body for only a second before he lost consciousness—the hubcap that his head had just slammed into was hard and unmerciless with him.

Lhaklar, who had just seen the attack that had just been delivered to his older brother, ran over as fast as he could; he leaped between the Goblin and his brother then started the slice and dice routine with his finger-knives. The man who was responsible for his brother being out cold, along with the five others who were standing near him, were sent to the shield's other side after he stomped his foot down. When these same Goblins returned to the shield's interior, he got nasty. Ropes of fire, streams of energy, and plenty of finger-knife slashing occurred before he decided to do a repeat maneuver in sending them from the shield—but, instead of just sending these blood-thirsty Goblins to the shield's other side, he sent them to where they had come from, which was his father's camp.

With that done and over with, and with it looking like the other Goblins in the circle being more concerned with the one who seemed to be fighting on his, his mother's, and his brothers' behalfs, he turned towards Bile. After bending down, then placing his fingers on the soft meat that was on the side of his brother's neck, he checked for a pulse—after two seconds, he decided that his brother was fine; he was breathing.

"Ligans in maledictionmen!" TrivitVile exclaimed. When he swung his wand, a blue light shot out from its end. Lazeer was fast in jumping out of the way.

"So, you want to do battle with wands instead of by hand and power eh?" Lazeer said as he reached down to the waist of his pants; he pulled a brown wand, that had a strand of silver going around it, out then pointed it at his opponent. "I can dig that, Freak. Manducare Vermes!"

"Suspensio!" TrivitVile yelled after dodging the red light that had come from Lazeer's wand. Lazeer reacted by twirling away from his attack; once out of harm's way, he swung his wand. A yellow light shot out from its end; TrivitVile just barely managed to get out of the way.

He teleported to the location just as his brother and two, older nephews decided to exit their ships; after hearing that something was going on in the shield's interior, they appeared in the location then started shouting after seeing what it was that everyone was so hyped out on.

The order for his Goblins to drop their assault on his family and then exit the shield was given; he was surprised to see them as not adhering to this given command. This wasn't suppose to happen; Trobrencus was suppose to lead his wife out, or grab and then carry her out—his Goblins were just there as back-up... they weren't suppose to get involved in anything. They were only suppose to be there as a have-your-back thing.

Trobrencus was a mess; other than having more than a dozen bleeding injuries to himself, he was pacing back and forth before the shield. The man was shouting... pleading for his son, who was still inside the shield, to come out.

There were eleven Goblins still in the shield; one of them was Homsi while the rest were members of his military. Not a single one was adhering to his given instructions in stopping their assault on his family and on leaving the shield; it was either they were in a fighting frenzy or they were just deciding to let what all instructions given to them go through one ear and then out the other. After five more attempts to get their attention failed, he heaved in air; the wand that was in his pocket was retrieved, then held at his Adam's apple. He bellowed angrily, then issued the command that he had been yelling for this past thirty seconds; his Goblins, once they heard his command, did as they were told right then and there. When the General of the unit ran over to him, he wasted no time in kicking him in the ass and then throwing him in the camp's general direction—he'd deal with the men who he had handpicked to do this mission later; now he had to concentrate on getting Trivit out of the shield... and, hopefully, in all one piece.

Homsi ran up right when the General was sent away; the man offered to go into the shield and then blast a hole in it that was wide enough for him to squeeze through. Before he was able to take his Most Trusted Butler's offer on, the ground rumbled, then grew hot. He looked up in time to see Trivit being thrown towards the shield-wall; Trivit, after gaining his feet underneath him, turned then ran towards the shield before stopping and then turning back around.

He only noticing that the Reezal boy, as everyone in camp was now calling him, was attacking the man with a wand at that precise moment.

"Manducare Vermes!" Lazeer shouted. It had looked like he had won the fight for a second there; after using a combination attack of his Elemental Ground powers and his Acidic powers on the man, and then seeing the man going towards the shield, he had figured that he had taught him a lesson on who not to mess with. It looked like this assumption was wrong; the man hadn't only stopped, or turned around, but he was also still fighting him.

"Suspensio!" TrivitVile yelled, then flicked his wand.

He had been planning on going to the shield and then exiting the shield; he was sore, and battered and bruised, and he was tired, but there was something keeping him here. It could very well be the curse that the kid had tried to place on him several seconds earlier and it could also be the pure fact that he just didn't want to admit defeat; all he knew was that he still wanted to give the kid a good fight and that he wasn't able to leave the shield, which was just two feet behind him.

He sent several clouds of black, exploding energy from his wand before deciding to use his Sound powers on the youth; quite surprisingly, both missed their intended target by a mile. A spell that would send a ring of exploding fire at the one who was the attacker was then said; the youth wasn't only struck by this defense blow but he was also driven back a few steps. With the withdraw being noted, he decided to do the spell that seemed to be the youth's favorite go-to spell—Manducare Vermes wasn't only a very powerful spell but it'd also make for the one that it struck to experience eight hours of hell in throwing up different sized worms, slugs, and clots of blood. The youth, though slower this time, managed to evade his spell; with a twirl, and then a single, simple, flick of his wand, he said another spell that sent a wave of smoke in his direction. Since he knew that the kid had just said the Dagger spell, he got out of the way; though he managed to dodge most of the daggers he did get nicked on the leg. Twice.

He, who had since dropped to his right knee, said the spell that'd send a normal ring of fire at his opponent; quite surprising, the youth dropped his wand then swung his arms out. The ring of fire that he had just sent out was caught, then looked to be in the process of being absorbed, before being thrown back to him. He was blasted to being almost out of the shield after this attack struck him.

"Enjoy the blood, the slugs, the worms, and the humiliation you Freak!" the youth yelled. He, who had since taken his wand up from the ground, swung his wand; a beam of white light flew towards him, then struck him, then sent him sailing from the shield. "That's for my family!"

Lazeer, after ousting his opponent in battle, ran towards the parking lot; after reaching the area where his family was, he dropped to his knees. He gave his mother a big hug before turning to look at Bile; his oldest brother was asleep, and he was bleeding from his right temple. His hands, along with the rest of him, were also shaking. Lazeer looked at Lhaklar, who looked as if he was about to collapse, then he looked at Hazaar; they were both tired, sore, and it looked like they were in need of medical treatment.

Charles Binkleton, Christie Baker, and Becky Vickers ran out from the store right after he joined his family; the three took one look at Bile before returning to the building. The call for the ambulance was made while Angel took her coat off; she was just placing it over her son when Charles yelled that it'd be a two to five minute wait for the paramedics to get there. While they waited, their mother cradled, and rocked, their brother, who was slowly coming to.

A little more than five minutes passed before the ambulance was seen; the crew that was in the vehicle's back were fast in going to work. The stretcher was taken out from the vehicle's back, then opened, then Bile was placed on it; a brace was placed around Bile's neck right when he was being placed in the ambulance's back. Their mother, as expected, leaped into the vehicle's back just before it tore off in the direction of the hospital.

"What now?" Hazaar asked.

"I-I can't d-drive..." Lhaklar said. With the adrenaline rush being gone from his system, and with the fight being over with, and with his being as sore and as tired as he was, he wasn't able to regulate his body temperature very well. He was only barely able to keep his legs from collapsing from under him. "Hah-Hazaar..."

"Give me the key!" Lazeer reached into his brother's pocket; he tore the key out, then helped his brother to the unscathed Buick Lucerne, then went back for Hazaar. Once his brothers were in the car, and were strapped in, he got behind the wheel. He started the engine then sped off in pursuit of the ambulance.


	31. Chapter 31

After entering the living room of his ship, he wasted little time in going over to his son; the bucket that he had just retrieved from his ship's storage area was placed before Trivit, who took it up, then nodded his thanks to him. With his son now having the bucket that he had been asking for for the last five minutes, he took to the liberty of finally sitting down on the brown microfiber chair that was placed between the two couches that matched it. His wife was to his left; she was nearly lying on the couch that she was on. Her wounded arm had been looked at, and then treated medically, before being wrapped; almost immediately after returning to his ship, then getting Trivit into the stationed room where the appointed physician worked in, he had gone to her to give her both a hug and a kiss.

His and Bahne's oldest son had been stripped of almost every shred of clothing that he had on him, then checked over for injuries, then treated for each of them injuries, and then sent on his way; he had only just reached the chamber that had been appointed to him when the belly-ache started being felt. Trivit, who wore nothing more than a pair of brown boxer shorts, had come yelling for him right after that belly-ache was felt; his son had been moved to the ship's living room, then told to sit on the ottoman, which belonged to the chair that he was sitting on. No sooner had his son sat down before the call for a bucket was made—with the staff being slow that day, that command hadn't been done as fast as he and his wife had wanted it to be done; in order for his son to get the item that he had been asking for he had gone to get it for him himself.

Now that the bucket was before him, and he had nodded his thanks to his "service", his son wasted no time in using it; he ducked his head then, in one, violent splurge, vomited. The boy groaned soon after what it was that was in him was out and then in the bucket.

"Triv?" he said. Up to now, he had said very little to his son; too much had been going on for him to say much of anything to anyone who was related to him. "You alright, Trivit?"

"Peachy, Pop. Just peachy." TrivitVile replied.

"You had a good run with that Punk Kid, take it easy now. It'll be over s—"

"In eight hours, Pop." TrivitVile said. Before he could say any comments on this, his son explained what he had just said. "The kid did the Manducare Vermes on me."

"Try to remain calm, then." he said while retaining the urge to be highly concerned.

"Will tr—" his son's hair flopped over the sides of the bucket as he went to throw up one of the items that he was forced to hurl for the next eight hours.

Instead of standing around, watching the festivities of what happened with Angel and them brats of hers, or in giving them Goblins of Tazir's a good hashing out, he had grabbed Trivit and then teleported back to camp; Bahne had just been moved to the room that they were in when he and his son entered the ship, while she had been told what had been going on she hadn't gotten up to see how they were or had helped him in getting their son to the ship's medical room. His poor wife looked more child than adult now—her back was facing towards him; her arms were crossed, and her face and chin were neatly nestled between them; and her feet were crossed. He felt for her; she had really gone through Hell in the last ten minutes that had gone past. Sadly, her ordeal was not yet over—she was emotional now, yes, but the shock from everything that had happened had yet to sink in on her. That would happen in a few hours time.

He had warned her; just before getting in position to go into the shield, he had warned both his wife and their son about the possible threat of trouble that could be faced in the planned mission that Tazir had come up with doing. Had they listened? Well, sort of. They had both said that they knew the consequences—that they could be injured, and that things could get way out of hand due to the Goblins not taking command from him—and they had also said that they were accepting of any and all consequences that were thrown at them. They had risked themselves; he had tried to talk them out of it, and he had also gotten stern and said no several times on their becoming involved in the mission. His wife and son had insisted on being involved and he, after putting in some thinking time, had been stupid in relenting to them and their request.

"You need a woman to go in to talk to Angel, Trob. You can't just rush on in and then capture her without causing a panic—let me go with you... let me make the mission be a smoother one for you, please." Bahne had said two hours after he had been elected as being the one to go into the shield to retrieve Angel.

Instead of just nodding his head, and then saying okay, you can go into the store and then talk to her on coming out willingly, he should of been firm on saying no. Trivit's little saying of his needing a "second-in-command" had been pure nonsense—he should of looked at his son and said bullshit instead of nodding his head and then saying that he could come along. He had been in no need of a second-in-command; he would of been fine with it just being himself going into the shield. Instead of having them Goblins around, he could of just gone into the shield—after one of them let him in, of course—and then strode up to the store, and then gone into the store, and then found the little Ragamuffin himself. Bing bang boom—he would of approached her, given her a few seconds to absorb that he was there, then might of engaged her in a short conversation or two before grabbing and then leaving the store with her.

Trivit had just wanted to be apart of something... his inexperience in knowing how to deal with hairy situations had caused him to turn a blind eye to the dangers that could or could not happen. His inexperience, and the excitement over his finally being apart of something that involved a sort of battlefield situation, had caused a lot to happen—while he felt pity for his son he also felt like this was a good learning tool for him on how one did and didn't go by doing missions. If Trivit hadn't been so inexperienced, or so highly excited, he wouldn't be chucking up worms, slugs, and clots of blood. He'd be as right as rain if he had had his head on straight.

With himself having a simple robe around himself, and with Bahne looking to be in her own little world, and with Trivit being busy with his bucket, he reached down for the nearby wastebasket. Once the basket, which was made out of a durable aero plywood, that was steam-bent, and was fastened with copper nails, was in his hand, he threw it at the nearby servant. This basket was fast in both striking this woman's derriere and in rolling along on the floor for a ways before coming to a stop near the wall.

The servant quickly turned around; she gave him a questioning look at once.

"Ale, brandy, and Creme de menthe," he demanded, then added. "on the double!"

"Yessir!" the servant bowed then left the room.

"You!" TrobrencusVile pointed at another servant, who was just walking by the ship's living room's open doorway. The servant stopped, then turned around. He looked at him. "Get them fools—Tazir and Vile—in here on the double!"

"Yessir!" the servant said, then ran off to do as he had been ordered to do.

"Take it easy, Trivy." TrobrencusVile said after his son had made a sound akin to a sob after vomiting a slug that was double that of the normal insect.

"Damn disgusting!" TrivitVile hitched in a breath, then hiccuped. "Had this done at s—" he hurled a large amount of living worms into the bucket; once these critters slapped down to the bucket's bottom, they started wriggling around. He came close to losing himself after chucking that up but, at the last second, he retained his composure. "Teacher did this to each of her pupils as a demonstration once. Dealt with ten minutes of this shit—it was horrible!"

"Had the same lesson given to me when I was a pupil at Pronghorn—it's gross but it's not permanent." TrobrencusVile said.

He was about to say _and lets thank the Gods for that_ when he suddenly felt the wriggling mass of either another glob of worms, or a slug, coming up from his stomach. He breathed deeply, and swallowed twice; he did his best to no avail in trying to keep whatever that wanted to come up down before, finally, ducking his head into the bucket. A large slug, that had a trail of blood following it, went pluck into the bucket a few seconds later; he was struggling to keep his resolve—the demonstration that he had been forced to go through while being a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic to the side, this was the most disgusting thing that he had ever gone through in his life!

He put full blame on that damn kid! That kid had fought him like a savage—he had neither been prepared to fight with a wand, or with his powers, or with his fists; he had had no idea that the kid would fight him like that much less know how to use a wand.

Before the next item came up, he remembered the rest of the spell that the brat had said—while the Manducare Vermes spell had been used an additional spell had been said behind it, which would cause him to not only puke up what he was for eight straight hours but also piss blood for the same amount of time. This only gave him further incentive to be scared shitless; a man's penis was used for two things—for creating offspring and for passing liquid waste... it wasn't made for pissing blood!

The blood pissing would start soon and he had plans to not be in the room with his parents when that happened—he had no intention of having his mother, or father, for that matter, fussing all over him because of the act of his being forced to piss blood for the next eight hours.

The drink that his father had in mind to make was called a Sting 'N' Scream; it had a good taste to it and he wouldn't mind having one. He knew, though, that he'd no more take a swig of what was put in the cup before it, and a slug, or a mass of worms, or a clot or two of blood, would force it back up.

The thought of his partaking in downing what his father had in mind to consume caused his body to wrack something awful; he ducked his head into the bucket, then hurled the biggest damn slug that he had ever seen, right when the two who his father had sent for entered the room. After lifting his head from the bucket, he glared at them; the servant who had been given the order to retrieve the items for his father's drink entered the room at that precise moment. The items that his father had asked for were placed down then the maid left, his father was fast in making himself his drink before standing from the chair that he had taken to sit in.

"Don't suppose you'd want one, My Dear?" TrobrencusVile said to his wife. Bahne responded by shaking her head.

He was fast in thinking that it had been a woman who had done the decorating of the room that he and his nephew had been told to go to. The two, brown, microfiber couches were nice pieces of furniture, as was the matching ottoman chair that sat between them; the couch that was across from the one that Bahne was nearly lying on was normal in all attributes while the one that Bahne was on had both a chair attachment on it and stretched around the room's far back right corner. The lamp that was behind the couch that Bahne was nearly lying on had a red bulb in its crystal-like fixture; the lamp's base had a hook-like design to it. The chocolate brown coffee table, that was between the two couches, had a tall vase on its surface. It had half-dead roses in it.

The crystal chandelier, that was hanging down from the center of the room's ceiling, was yet another fine piece; he found himself liking it. There were two, brown side tables in the two, unoccupied corners of the room; a brown phone sat on one of them, the other table had a rather old-looking phonograph on it. There were four photographs up on the room's walls; one of them depicted TrobrencusVile and his wife—Bahne was in her husband's arms; both she and her husband looked quite happy in the photograph. The photograph that was beside that one was of TrobrencusVile's three oldest children—DananVile, DazassVile, and TrivitVile. The photograph that was on the other side of the room had CelobraVile, her twin sister, BenociVile, their husbands, and children in it. The photograph that was beside that one had the whole family in it; everyone in that photograph looked very happy.

The room's carpet was a light brown color. The room's walls and ceiling were a dark brown color. There was a multi-brown fur lined up at the foot of the couches and chair. The couch that wasn't being used had multi-brown pillows on it; it looked like there were no adornments on the other couch. What struck him as odd was the fact that the room had no fireplace in it—this lack of room decoration gave the room a sort of unfinished feeling.

"Sometimes lessons are learned the hard way," he thought after taking in the still-present, many injuries that were on Trobrencus's body.

He had warned the guy that some sort of resistance might be experienced and he had also warned the guy that he might not be able to do as one who was closer to Angel would surely be able to do; TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit had not listened to him. He had been stubborn in thinking that he could do something because he was older and more experienced than everyone else; sadly, it looked like he, his wife, and his oldest son were being given a good lesson on what could happen when his wife was involved. Angel was a fighter and, obviously, so were her kids.

He hadn't had any time to discipline any of the Goblins that he had personally picked to be involved in the plan; right after Trivit was removed from the area, he had been sort of transfixed to one area—the parking lot, where the fighting had taken place in.

An ambulance had arrived; someone—he hadn't been able to detect who it was but he had a feeling that it was one of his sons—had been put in its back just before it sped off. Angel had gotten into the vehicle—this was the cause of his thinking that it was one of the boys who had been carted off to a medical facility of some sort. The Reezal-boy had taken his firstborn and secondborn sons, who had looked to be standing around in a daze, to a deep red car right after the ambulance was off on its run to whatever medical facility it had come from; the boy, after getting Lhaklar and Hazaar into the car, had gotten behind the wheel and then sped off in pursuit of the ambulance. Three humans had followed behind them about two to three minutes later. He had only managed to tear himself from the area after the three humans drove off.

Other than the basics, he really still didn't know anything of what had happened. His plan had gone up in shambles, he knew that, and he also knew that the ones that he had personally picked to be involved in the plan had gone against his orders, and had looked to be attacking his wife and sons. Homsi, from what he had been able to see, had looked to be both fighting to defend himself and Angel and the three boys, who had been fighting his military Goblins; Trobrencus had also been pacing back and forth before the shield, yelling and screaming himself into a frenzy over his son still being on the other side, and still being engaged in fighting that Reezal boy.

Instead of doing as he had wanted to do in teleporting in, and then grabbing the General who had dared to run up to him after finally deciding to follow his instructions, and then demanding that he give him some answers as to what had happened, he had found himself being called to Trobrencus's ship. His General knew that he was in for a good ass-kicking later on; he had made sure to give the signal for him to remain in the area and he had also made it apparent to the man that he was to get it by giving him more than one anger-induced stare.

"I do hope that you plan on giving them boys of yours a good kick in the ass for what they did!" TrobrencusVile's silence was broken. "Look at what they've done! Look at my wife! My son!"

"Look at my husband!" Bahne cried.

"What happened? The signal went out when word was received that you had my wife and was bringing her out of the shield." TazirVile asked.

"I'm not surprised—them damn Goblins of yours did nothing but stand and watch us fight! It wasn't until—" TrivitVile held his hand up; he ducked his head nearly, fully into the bucket then threw up a long strand of coiled up worms.

"The only ones who did anything were the two who went in the store... the ones who were in position before I was given the signal to go in." Bahne said. "While my husband was dealing with Bile, and Trivit with Reezal, they were squaring off with Lhaklar and Hazaar."

"When did the boys come in?" TazirVile asked.

"Just after I grabbed your Ragamuffin by the arm." TrobrencusVile replied. "The boys were just standing there... the near invisible cloak that we had around us was—"

"We were ambushed!" Bahne yelled. "Don't you sugar coat it, Trob! One of them boys used their Elemental powers to make the snow and fog drift away then they attacked."

"They were w—" TrivitVile ducked his head into the bucket; he chucked up a large slug, groaned, then came close to crying before gaining control of himself. "They were waiting for us—someone told them, or one of them was around c—" after ducking his head back into the bucket, he puked up a clod of blood; his body shook after that was dispelled from him. Once he was done with his episode, he looked over the bucket's rim. "They knew... they fuckin' knew!"

Just as TazirVile and Master Vile were getting the scoop on what had happened, and were feeling a mix of emotions from the details that they were getting, the ambulance that Angel and Bile were in pulled up to the emergency entrance of Green River Regional Care. The EMTs rolled Bile from the vehicle's back, then into the building, then disappeared; Angel went with them for only two minutes before deciding to stop. She went to help Lazeer, who was having a time in escorting both Lhaklar and Hazaar into the building. Bile, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness all during the drive to the hospital, lost consciousness yet again right when his mother decided that all of her children needed to be seen by a doctor.

The sign-in sheet that was at the front desk was signed then two wheelchairs were brought out; Lhaklar was helped to one while Hazaar eased himself to the other on his own. Lazeer went with his two brothers after they were rolled towards the two doors that went to the hospital's back.

Angel was just showing her insurance card, and was just giving the receptionist her home, work, and cellular numbers, and was just asking how Bile was and if she could be at his side, when Charles, Christie, and Becky rushed into the lobby.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but, at the moment, it's best to let the doctors be in treating him for whatever injuries he may or may not have." the receptionist replied to Angel's final question. "The doctors will tell you what all they were able to do and what's going on soon."

"Guess that means that we'll have to sit and wait." Christie said. She had come up behind Angel; she had heard all of what the receptionist had said.

"Did you sign all of them in or just Bile and Lhaklar?" Becky asked.

"All of them—that was a furious fight and they were all involved. All of my boys will be checked over and kept overnight if I say so." Angel replied before going towards the waiting room. After taking a seat, she looked out the nearby window. Her boss and co-workers did the same a few seconds later.

After hearing that his two, older sons had been carrying, and using, a dangerous weapon, he had to ask to be excused; though concerned over their use of a pair of brass knuckles, and finger-knives, he was also enraged over hearing that they'd dare use them on a family member and on the members of his military. His two sons, Lhaklar especially, could really of been injured, or killed, by the use of them two weapons—Homsi and Eldass might of restrained themselves on not hurting the two but the handpicked individuals of his military who had gone on the mission to retrieve Angel from her workplace could very well of attacked them with the sole intent of maiming or killing them; he thanked the Gods that neither had happened and he thanked the Gods for Homsi being around to fend off the Goblins who had been "Thrill-Fighting" his family.

Trivit had long since gone off to his assigned chamber; though not sure, he did think that he had heard the sounds of someone yelling in fright and then moaning in disgust a few minutes after Trivit's company was removed from both him and his nephew. The young man was really having it rough with the spell that had been used on him; other than nearly succumbing to his vomiting episodes, and having a bad case of the shivers after each episode of tossing a slug, or a glob of worms, or clots of blood, he had also come close to asking his father to knock him out cold—so he wouldn't have to go through with it all. Bahne had broken down twice before deciding to leave the room; she had said that she had better things to do than to be around men who had sired boys who attacked members of their family just before leaving the ship's living room.

Trobrencus, though retaining his masculine side, had been a mess; soon after explaining the events of what happened in the parking lot, he had started to cough. Great amounts of thick, syrupy saliva had come out of him first; both he and Vile had taken him by the arms after the blood had started being coughed up. The call for his personal physician had been made, then they had taken him to the room that was his and Bahne's, then they had simply stood around until the man's stationed doctor had come around to see him.

It took around twenty to thirty minutes before the physician left the room; the man had only just given the call for the ones who were waiting to go into the room to go in when some of Trobrencus's daughters brushed by him and his nephew. He and Vile only entered the room after the women were inside.

"Four of my Treasures," TrobrencusVile said immediately after his daughters entered the room. "Come here. Come see daddy."

"Is it as bad as we heard, daddy?" DananVile asked.

"No—just a bit broken and busted up. Nothing to worry your pretty self about."

"Daddy..." DananVile started to say.

"Oh now stop that. Badly bruised ribs, and some internal bleeding—that's since been stopped—, is nothing to get overly finicky about." TrobrencusVile was fast in saying.

"Daddy! Bile did that to you? He fought you so hard that you got—" DananVile looked about to cry.

TrobrencusVile shushed the oldest of his daughters then reached his arm forward; the lock of hair that had fallen over DananVile's face was pushed back, then his hand was placed to the side of her face. Neither he nor she removed it. The hand remained on the woman's face for a stretch of two minutes before dropping to the bed.

His oldest daughter was a pretty thing; though happy over knowing that she was happy in life, and though highly protective of her, he was surprised over her not having that many suitors. She had taken after her mother most; the cream-blonde hair that she had was curled at the moment, the heart-shaped face had a small splash of makeup on it, and the figure was just as hourglass-shaped as could be. There were only a few things that she had inherited from him—her eyes were one of these few things; the irises were a light red color while the sclera and pupils were white.

She was wearing a light green embroidered dress that had spaghetti straps on it; the heels that were on her feet matched the dress perfectly. The green, needle-lace necklace that was around her neck was a fine piece of jewelry; the bracelet that she wore around her left wrist matched the necklace perfectly.

As he had said so many times, not all offspring born to a pair had to look like the mother or the father; some came out looking like both while, sometimes, they came out looking like their grandparents or their great-grandparents or even their great-great grandparents. He had never denounced a child of his and he hoped that he never would—he loved each and every one of his children to death; to lose one would be like losing a piece of himself.

He had done no paternity tests on his children—he had no reason to as Bahne and he were as thick as could be. He knew that his Peachy-Pie would never cheat on him.

"I'll be fine—I've had much worse done to me." TrobrencusVile said to his oldest daughter. "Do you recall the time where I had not only all of my ribs, and my arm, broken but also had my right knee busted all to hell?"

"In your last conquest. Yes, I remember." DananVile replied. "Mom forced you to stay in bed for a month, and she also refused to let you out of a chair after that month was up."

"A mid-teenage boy bruised your ribs _and_ caused internal bleeding?" DazassVile asked in disbelief.

"Bile, as surprising as it sounds, has one hell of a strong body on him—but I presume that he is having his issues as well. Like with he with me, I fought him hard." TrobrencusVile answered his secondborn daughter, who, except for being two inches taller, looked like a mirrored image of his wife.

"I hope that, when he gets caught, he's taught more than one lesson." BenociVile exclaimed. "There was no reason for him to attack you!"

"True—no reason, but I suspect that we walked into an ambush. They had to of known, otherwise they wouldn't of been there." TrobrencusVile replied. "Wasn't just Bile, dearie, Lhaklar got me good with them finger-knives of his."

"Both will be severely punished after they've been caught, don't you worry on that." TazirVile said.

While Danan, as he and his family, and everyone who knew her, called her, had come out as having a small fleck of flesh on each of her cheeks that was a shade darker than her skin complexion, and with having a bi-colored body—with the left side being green while the right was cream-orange—Dazass, as he and his family, and everyone who knew her, called her, had come out as having a light tan skin complexion that was very nearly devoid of discolored skin flecks—just the sides of her neck, and the backs of her hands, had discolored flecks of flesh on them. While Bahne had won out on passing most of her physical attributes to their two, older daughters she hadn't been as "fortunate" in gaining the same opportunity with one of their twin daughters.

BenociVile Bajinia Surfeit, or Beenie, as he and his family, and everyone who knew her, called her, had come out looking like him. Her long, and half-wavy hair was uniquely split in color—the left side of her hair was purple while the right was a dark cream color. Her face was shaped like his; she had light purple irises but the sclera and pupils were red; her nails were long and dark cream in color. The few flakes of flesh that were on her face were a dark red color; her left arm had a loosely flapping piece of flesh on it—this was it on that genetically inherited trait of his that she had gained from him. She stood five foot, six inches tall—a very fine height for any woman, he did believe.

At the moment, she was wearing a pair of black slacks; the feminine boots that were on her feet were also black. The navy blue, open-topped blouse that she was wearing had a ruffled collar on it. She wore no makeup; with the exception of the wedding ring that her husband had given her twenty-one thousand years ago, she was wearing no jewelry. Unlike her twin, who was more open with others, she was right shy.

"Bile will be getting double," Master Vile announced. "A single disciplining from him and another from me. We won't let him get away with this."

"You're his biological father, right?" CelobraVile asked.

"Yes," Master Vile replied, then mumbled as he gestured in his uncle's direction. "Unfortunately, he's the man who adopted him."

CelobraVile Rooojaha Surfeit, or Celie as he and his family, and all who knew her, called her, was a lovely girl who had her mother's fine looks. She had long, curly, creamy-blonde hair—two of its strands had been dyed purple just before the trip to Earth had been made—and she had her mother's heart-shaped face and fine facial features. Her eyes, though resembling his in shape, were a bright blue color; like with her lips, which were coated in purple lipstick, she had purple eye-shadow around her eyes. There looked to be a coating of mascara on her eyelashes as well. No flecks of discolored flesh, or flappy skin, or even bi-colored skin were present on her.

The younger of his twin daughters hadn't had it easy in life; along with sending more than four angry-based, or abusive, suitors from her, he had also sent two fiancés packing. Before Pagnyar Palus, his daughter's husband, had come up with the idea of sliding a ring on her finger, he had sat him down for a long chat on how he was to treat his daughter. Pagnyar was a good man; he treated his daughter well—he was glad for this as, if he had heard anything from his daughter that revolved around his causing her grief, or around his abusing her, or if he had heard anyone speak of such a thing to him, he would of thrown him out on whatever ass he had left on his body. Hit the curb, Jack, and don't ever come crawling back, was what he would of said to the man if the subject of abuse had reached his ears.

Other than the abusive relationships, Celie had also had three children. The first of her children had been lost to miscarriage while the second had been removed to ensure that his daughter would remain healthy—this child had been draining his daughter of just about everything; it had been the doctor's call to remove the child and, really, both he, Bahne, and Celobra were glad that this call had been made. Celobra could well of died if that child had remained in her. Her third and only child, SyamsinVile Palus, had been born as being fully healthy; they were all exceptionally glad for this—a chance for Celobra to be the mother that she wanted to be, a chance for Pagnyar to be the father that he wanted to be, and a chance for him and Bahne to be the grandparents that they wanted to be had been gained by the birth of that child.

She hadn't had any other children since Syamsin; her tubes had been tied to ensure that she'd remain healthy.

"Until you two get them kids of Angel's under control," CelobraVile gave TazirVile and Master Vile a serious look. "I'm not allowing Syamsin to be so much as a foot near them and I suggest that the same is done for Tralisa, Bohir, Fleebe, Impub, and Varaxcan."

"No child of mine will be allowed near them until they've been tamed down and have done a formal apology towards us." TrobrencusVile said. "Speaking of Fleebe, Impub, and Varaxcan," TrobrencusVile leaned over slightly before straightening back up. "Celie, be the dear, evil, sweet thing that you are and bring your younger sister and brothers in here for me."

Master Vile moved to the side; he allowed for the woman who was his cousin to walk by. Surprisingly, it wasn't Celobra who retrieved and then brought her asked-for siblings in; Bohir walked into the room on his own while Bahne came in with Impub following directly beside her. A girl by the name of FleebeVile came in behind them then came one by the name of TralisaVile Veonim; the final one to enter the room was a boy by the name of SyamsinVile Palus. FleebeVile and Bohir sat down together; Varaxcan, who was a young four hundred and sixty-three years of age, was lifted up and then placed near her father's feet while Impub sat on the opposite side of her. With the exception of TrivitVile, who was busy dealing with his forced-upon demons, and the men who had married Benoci and Celobra, nearly all of the TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit family was in the room.

Master Vile was very evident of the room's mood; he felt how close the family were to one another and he felt how much love each member of the family had for one another. This, in a lot of ways, made him feel jealous and pissed him off.

Here was a man who had never had to worry about his children being disobedient and then running off; here was a man who had a wife who had given him ten children; here was a man who's wedded spouse loved, cherished, and adored him. The man had never had to chase after one of his daughters, or had seen that daughter harm family members time and again, or had seen said daughter birth out and then raise a son by him who had repeated his mother's actions in harming family members. The man had never had to experience the pain of having his wife be stolen by another man; he had never had to face the ugly truth of seeing his stolen wife be victimized by her stolen partner, and then be forced into producing and then raising children by that man and he had never experienced seeing said man also be accepted by his stolen wife and the children that she had been forced to have by him.

After feeling the room's mood, then feeling these emotions, he decided to go somewhere else. He excused himself then left the room and then, shortly thereafter, the ship.

"What's his problem, daddy?" FleebeVile asked after her cousin left the room.

"Has better things to do then stand around." TrobrencusVile replied to his second youngest daughter's question. "Has to prepare for when Angel and her children are caught, my dear."

"He's a weird man, dad." Bohir commented on Master Vile.

TrobrencusVile leaned to the side then ran his hand through the hair of the daughter who had been born many thousands of years after Benoci and Celobra had come into the Universe; FleebeVile Estushia Surfeit, his second youngest daughter, had come out looking like a combination of him and his wife. She had red and purple flecks of flesh on her cheeks, forehead, and neck and she had red, blood-like trails under her eyes. Her eyes were a light yellow color, the pupils that were in their centers were red. Her wavy hair was a light purple color—though the color had come from him she had gotten the smooth-like texture from her mother.

Fleebe, as he and the rest of his family, and everyone who knew her, called her, was wearing a royal blue dress; the pleated collar-line draped cleverly over the bodice—it gave the dress a figure-flattering, yet teenage-appropriate, feeling. The two-inch heels that were on her feet matched the dress in color only. Around her left wrist was a multi-blue beaded bracelet while, hanging down from around her neck, was an Alloy with blue Rhinestone and diamond necklace. Fleebe lunged at him after he ran his hand through her hair; she gave him a warm hug before backing off—this daughter of his, who was two thousand, six hundred, and fifteen years of age, had only just started being allowed to experiment with perfumes. The smell of Vanilla and Apricot that was coming from her was quite fragrant.

He took in three deep breaths before making the muscle that wasn't damaged work in propelling him into a fully seated position; he picked his youngest daughter up quickly, then he grabbed his youngest son, before falling back to his prior position on the bed.

He was a father of habit; all of his children were special to him and he didn't want to have one receive more attention than another.

The youngster that he had in his arms was a surprise child for him and his wife; he hadn't been in the mood for intercourse on the night that Varaxcan was conceived. His wife had pushed several of his buttons then had led him to the bathroom that was adjacent their bedroom chamber; only after drawing him a bath, then doing the honors of undressing him herself, had he figured out what she was trying to do. The lovely woman had rubbed him all over, had gotten him to feeling all antsy, before sliding into the tub herself; it had happened right then and there for them. VaraxcanVile Dlahla Surfeit had been sighted as being in Bahne's womb a month later.

Varaxcan looked quite a deal like him; while she hadn't inherited the gene for having a bi-colored body she had gotten his hair—it was long, straight, and dark purple in color. The complexion of her skin was quite pale; to the naked eye, she had his eyes—the sclera of her eyes was a light red color while the irises and pupils were a cream-like color. She had three, loose patches of flesh hanging down on her face and she also had red, flaky patches on her chin. Like he, his daughter had dark red, blood-like trail markings under her eyes. Varaxcan, who he and his family sometimes called Vara, was wearing a plain purple dress that had a lace-like apron on its front; there was nothing on her feet. She was four hundred and sixty-three years old.

Impub, who had his arms around him, and who was giving him one of them light, bone-crunching hugs, had been conceived in the normal way—in his and Bahne's marital bed. The only difference between Impub's conception and the rest of how their children had been conceived was the hour in which he and Bahne had done the deed—6:03 a.m.; they had done the deed just before getting up to start their day.

ImpubVile Yhamikor Surfeit, or Impub, as he and his family, and the ones who knew his son, called him, looked very much like him; the only difference between father and son was the fact that his son had solid green eyes, light purple hair, and a pug-like nose.

"Oh, Tazir! I apologize, was there reason for you to still be in the room? Thought you took off with Vile when he left." TrobrencusVile, who had totally forgotten about TazirVile being in the room, asked.

TazirVile, thinking better to not stick around, shook his head then turned to leave the room. While on the way down the hallway, he passed by Qepax Veonim, TrobrencusVile and Bahne's son-in-law, and Benoci's husband, and then Pagnyar Palus, TrobrencusVile and Bahne's other son-in-law, and Celobra's husband. TazirVile, who hadn't put much though in on taking his black wool overcoat off the entire time that he had been in Trobrencus's ship, stepped out from Trobrencus's ship then went directly to his own.

The fifty Goblins that he had assigned to be with his great-great uncle were still in the area, and so was the General who he wanted to have a small to-do with. He went to have that to-do with the man now.

"Mrs. Vile?" a short, African American woman, who was wearing a blue doctor's outfit, asked after coming into the waiting room. "Is there a Mrs. Vile in the room?"

"I take it that you're asking for the mother of Bile Vile," Angel said as she got up from her chair.

"I am, yes. Are you Mrs. V—"

"Irene—Miss. Angel Irene." Angel said. "I'm Bile Vile's mother, same for Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer Surfeit."

"That was who I was coming in for," another doctor, this one having mildly tan skin, steel-gray hair, and dull brown eyes, said after coming into the room.

"If you'll please come with us." the first doctor said.

"How're my sons?" Angel asked as she followed to two doctors out of the waiting room, then down the hallway towards the rooms where her sons were.

What the two doctors told her about her sons made her feel almost as light as a feather; she nearly lost all of her breath and all of her strength after being given the scoop on what was going on with her four boys. Bile was fine; there were no internal injuries, such as internal bleeding or broken bones. He had only been suffering the effects of a concussion; his face and hands were cut to pieces, and he had numerous bruises and cuts to his body—that was really it on what the doctors had found on him and that was all that they had found themselves as having to treat. Lhaklar was just suffering the after-effects of the fight—exhaustion, plus the minor superficial wounds that he had gained during the fight, plus the sudden drop in adrenaline, had caused his system to have a minor shock. Hazaar had also been noted as dealing with the same thing. Lazeer was fine; the doctor charged with his care claimed that all he'd need was a good night's sleep, a few small meals, and some quiet time to get over what he had gone through.

With there being no cause for her sons to be kept in the hospital, she said for them to get up from the beds that they had been placed on; they followed her to the lobby, where she checked them out and then thanked the hospice care officials for their care of them. With this done, she led her sons out of the building. They went to her car, then piled in; not a word was said after they were seated and then on their way home.

Charles, Christie, and Becky followed them home; Charles's silver and yellow, VW Bug was quite bland in comparison to the other cars that her co-workers owned and drove. It had blue-tinted windows, two exhausts on the back, and a skylight on the roof—the canvas top made it look like a convertible when, in reality, it wasn't. No one knew or had an explanation as to why her boss's car had a canvas top on it. Becky Vickers's car was more modern and "stylin'" in comparison to Charles's; it had two tires on the front, like any other car would have, but it only had a single tire on the back. There were four exhausts coming out from the vehicle's back; the windows were of the blink-in, black-out type that were quite new to that day's manufactured vehicles; and the engine was located in the trunk. This car was mostly red in color; it had all sorts of glitter-like designs on its sides and top. Christie Baker's car was a little bit of an eye-sore; the tires were hidden behind a piece of fiberglass that was designed to look like speakers. The main body of the car was peach-colored while the rest of the car was black; the windows were the exact same model as those that were on Becky's car.

It took a full hour of driving before they pulled up in the drive of the apartment where they lived in; right after taking the key from the ignition, she turned in her seat then looked at the three who were seated on the vehicle's backseats.

"Bile," she said after looking at her oldest son, who was currently looking down at his hands. "where'd you get the knuckles?"

"Downtown, ma." Bile said as he folded his hands; his long, dark yellow fingernails scraped against the bandaging that the doctors had placed around his hands. He purposely scraped at this bandaging for a few seconds before stopping. "From the pawnshop in downtown."

"Lhaklar," with knowing where her oldest son had gotten his brass knuckles from, she turned her attention to her second oldest son. Lhaklar turned to look at her slowly. "where'd you get the finger knives?"

"From one of the stores on Viro, mom. Remember when I said that I needed to use the bathroom?" Lhaklar replied, then asked. His mother nodded her head. "After using the bathroom, I went to one of the stores that you had to drag me from; I purchased them, then went back to the bathroom, then met up with you afterwards."

"How much did you spend on them?"

"Ten bucks,"

"And how much did you spend on the knuckles?" Angel asked her firstborn son.

"Fifteen. Each." Bile replied.

"Uh-huh." Angel said as she started the process of getting out of the car. Her sons, though slow, followed in her example. Once they were out of the car, she turned to address the two who had been caught as having weapons on them. "I suppose that since neither of you have hurt yourselves with what you used today, and since you know how to use them, you can keep the knuckles and the finger knives." with this being said, and with the relieved looks being noted on the faces of her sons, she turned to the one important question that she really wanted an answer to. "How'd you four know that I was in trouble?"

"After the line between your cellular and our apartment went dead we got concerned." Hazaar started to explain. We called Charles, then the store, then your cellular several times—we weren't able to reach you and—"

"We got worried, then decided to drive up to your workplace to see what was up." Lazeer said, jumping into the conversation, and cutting his older brother off in the process.

"With what was going on, I'm glad that you did. Think you taught them a very important lesson." Angel said as she led her family, and her co-workers, towards the apartment. "Alright, everyone inside then sit and be "bored" for a while—you're all grounded for a full twelve hours. Sleep, build your models, read or whatever."

"Take it real easy, in other words." Bile said after stopping before the apartment's door.

"Right," Angel said. "take it easy."

As Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer went into the apartment, then went straight to the downstairs bathroom to throw their winter clothes in the bathtub, TazirVile was walking into his brother's ship. After giving his military Goblins a good piece of his mind, then threatening to demote the General who had been in-charge of the camera that he had placed on him, he had gotten word from one of his brother's staff about his brother wanting to see and then speak with him. He had sighed after getting this word—the idea of just going into his ship, then taking his coat off and sitting somewhere to come to terms with the happenings of that day had been a good one and he had wanted to do it; with his brother wanting to see and speak with him, he hadn't been allowed to do neither.

The first person that he saw was his sister-in-law; Irka gave him a single look before walking on—she went to wherever she had intended to go before stopping to "acknowledge" him. This cold-given action of his sister-in-law's had never been a worry or an issue with Angel; if he so much as walked by his wife, or if she had noticed him walking away from her after she exited a room on the level that the both of them were on, she'd be both vocal in acknowledging him and she'd also get a bit physical with him—a hug or a kiss to the cheek would happen, or a little affectionate grab of the ass would be given to him, or she'd simply follow him to where he was going. Angel had always treated him as someone special while, as sad as it was for him to think it, his family had just given the quick or cold acknowledging whenever they saw him; his family, nine times out of ten, would also only call or include him in on things whenever something that he could do that they couldn't occurred.

He found his brother where he thought he'd find him—in the ship's living room. Before he could say anything to the man, or even say his name, Baruk teleported in; his brother's attention, though pulled in his direction after he entered the room, was automatically given to his son after he appeared in the room.

"You did as I told you to?" KurukVile said to his son. He held his hand up after seeing his brother; though he wanted to speak with him, he had more important matters to take care of right now. "Floors on the first, second, and third levels cleaned? The mass amount of dishes in the kitchen cleaned and then put away? Any and all dusty areas cleaned of what they had on them?"

"Yes dad." Baruk replied.

"Five stacks of wood piled up? Horses fed? Inventory taken of the pantry?"

"Yes dad." Baruk replied a bit too miserably.

"Picked up the mail?"

"Right here," the bag that contained the mail from the past week was shown and then given over.

"How about the pets?" KurukVile asked his son. He eyed his son as only a father who was looking for the tell-tale signs of one lying would.

"I fed all but Gahzie—I couldn't find her." Baruk said.

"Did you check the kennels for her?"

"Yes, dad. I checked the kennels, the barn, and all of the rooms at home. I couldn't find her."

"I should tell you to go back to look for her again—Gahzie's pregnant with her second litter. I don't need to tell you how valuable an animal she is." KurukVile said. He took up a gold chalice, that had rubies all around the rim, from the table that was beside him. Before taking a sip of the cup's wine, he waved his hand. "You're dismissed—after a month and five day's worth of house chores, I should think that you've learned your lesson. Next time, you get double—and I'm not just talking about getting plain chores. Here me boy?"

"Yes dad."

"Good, now leave me to talk with your uncle." KurukVile said.

All he knew was that his young nephew had been disciplined for his attack on Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar a month and five days earlier; up to now, he hadn't known that the youngster had been grounded _and_ given a hefty load of house chores to do too. Though he understood the purpose on Baruk getting the chore of looking after the pets that his family owned, he would never have one of his sons do the chore of taking care of the animals that lived in his mansion—the bats, fish, and Platepuses were all tended by him; unless he was away from home for a lengthy period of time, it was all on him on the care provided to the animals that he owned. He might let the boys tend to Angel's pet Sekhem's, but he wouldn't place a punishment on them where they were required to look after the three animals; if his boys were punished, they'd either be told to sit on their bums and be bored out of their wits ends or be given a certain amount of chores to do that were both warranted to their given punishment and were teenage-appropriate.

Check the garden for ripe or near-ripe produce; muck out the stalls; feed and water the horses, sheep, and goats; and maybe some dishes to clean, or some clothes to fold and then put away—that was what he'd pin on the boys to do if they were given any form of punishment where they were grounded for any length of time. The general house maintenance, the maintenance of the yards, the care given to his MoHunds, and the act of putting the horses, sheep, and goats away would not be done by his sons—he wanted no broken bones, or skin, and he wanted no animals being accidentally released because of his sons' inexperience in handling such animals.

"Waiting on an invitation?" his brother asked him warm-heartily. He waved his hand after saying this; the invite to enter the room, and then take a seat, was given.

As he took a seat on one of the room's two couches, he took the room in. It had been remodeled—completely redone a few hundred years ago. This was his first time in getting a look at all that had been changed in it. His brother was one of them manly types; while he did allow for his wife to decorate certain rooms in the house, and around three to four in his ship, he liked for most of the rooms in both structures to suit his manliness.

The couch that he was sitting on matched the one that was perpendicular to it—a very dark chocolate brown velvet material stretched over both; the brown pelts that were stretched across their backs had come from four of the planet's Beaver population. His brother was seated across from him in a very dark brown leather chair; the ottoman that was before the chair had a brown and orange pelt draped over it—he had no idea what the animal had been that the pelt had come from and he wasn't about to ask any questions on it. The shelf that ran along the room's left-side wall contained some of the items that his brother had claimed from his Earth-done hunting excursions ; there was a very finely polished Crocodile skull, a full grown Panda and a Panda cub skull, and a preserved specimen of a Caiman on this shelf. In the corner, at the shelf's end, hung a very impressive skull that had once been owned by a Longhorn cow; the horns on this skull were big and were splayed out sideways. Despite the cow's skull's tough appearance, the horns looked quite fragile.

The carpet wasn't carpet; it was dark brown fur—it was very finely preserved and it seemed to be holding up to the demands of the ones who walked on it. The walls were a dark brown color while the ceiling was a little lighter than them.

A black glass table sat to his brother's left; the phone, which had a femur for a handle, and nicely polished, black claws for the ear and mouth pieces, that sat on its surface was one of the room's original pieces. Another original piece to the room sat just behind his brother; it was a portrait of him and his wife. The artist responsible for this portrait had captured each and every detail of the two—the muscle, the look in the eyes, even the mood between the two; Kuruk had his wife in his arms, they were smiling. That was the last of the room's original pieces; the rest had been redone.

A black-stone fireplace had been added to the room during the remodeling process—though he kept this to himself, he thought that the piece was tacky and that it gave the room an over-stuffed feeling. Hanging down from the ceiling was a Pterodactyl skeleton; his brother had gotten an artist to make this, but he had been the one to incorporate the candles that were hanging down from the wing-bones. The skeleton, in a lot of ways, acted as the room's chandelier. Like with the fireplace, this also gave the room an over-stuffed feeling.

His brother, after he took his seat in the room, took a single sip from his chalice; after this sip was done, he placed his cup down on the black glass table.

"First time that you've been in my ship since it was remodeled, right?" his brother asked.

"Mhmmm, yes." TazirVile replied.

"My wife's not yet comfortable with it—she, and the kids, are slowly getting use to it." his brother said.

"You added a fireplace I see." TazirVile said.

"Yes. Other than the portrait of me and my wife, my favorite piece is the chandelier." KurukVile looked up at the Pterodactyl skeleton that was hanging down from the ceiling's center. "T'was Angel who brought my attention to that animal. Built rather delicately, but damn if they weren't dangerous beasts."

"Yes, she told you of the Pterodactyl just a day or two after she told me of the Nemicolopterus. Had a reconstruction done on that animal—it still has a chamber all to itself."

"Mmmm." his brother nodded his head; the look that came into his eyes told him that he was about to say something important. "What you just saw of me disciplining my son you should jog down in your memory banks. Children, especially teenagers, will walk all over you if you let them." it was quiet between the two of them for a few minutes before his brother spoke again. "Bile will be one who'll be needing a lot of discipline. If he's to become any sort of conqueror, or a decent man, he'll need to be disciplined and a lot. Same for Lhaklar and Hazaar. What're your plans for that other kid?"

"I'm not separating him from Angel or the boys. He'll be coming to Moas after they've been captured." TazirVile was quick to say.

"I'd do some good thinking on him before you do that. Did you check the records at Pronghorn on him?" KurukVile asked.

"No. Just on Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar."

"If I were you, I'd go back to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. Do another search—this one on the Reezal boy. He, from what I've been able to decipher from Bahne and Trobrencus, knew quite a lot of spells and attacks that are taught at that school; he's been said to know how to wield a wand as well, so that just tells me that he went to the school." KurukVile said as he took his chalice from the table. He took two drinks from the cup before putting it back on the table; it took him two minutes before saying something else. "Baruk is now free to do as he pleases—the punishment given to him is finished. I'll keep my eye on him, but... if he does get in a fight with the boys again, I might just let him fight them. It might teach them boys a lesson on who not to mess with, especially Bile. The impression that Bile's given me isn't good, Brother. He gives me the impression that, since he is so big for his age, he is all that and a bag of chips. Do you see Baruk acting in that way, Tazir?"

The final question that he had been asked was still buzzing around in his head five minutes later, after he excused himself and then left the ship that was owned and piloted by his brother. Did Baruk think that he was all that because of his size—he could of answered that question with a yes while being in his brother's ship but he had retained that answering by simply staying quiet. Baruk did sometimes go over the edge, and then some on some occasions. He did lift things that he shouldn't; he did spark fights with others that he shouldn't be picking fights with; and he was a sort of bad influence. The bad influence thing had plenty of examples to it: Bohir, he had been told, was a good, respectful kid when he wasn't around Baruk or when he was kept from Baruk for a certain period of time. The kid was prone to running his mouth, and thinking himself as all high and mighty right after his time with Baruk was over; Trobrencus and Bahne were doing their best in getting him to not act in this way—he knew that they were concerned over their son's budding friendship with Baruk and he also knew that they were concerned with how Baruk handled himself. Gaajah seemed to be following Baruk to wherever he went; he was almost like a puppy begging for treats from his master. Gaajah was also making a habit out of trying to imitate everything that Baruk was doing now—he had personally seen the boy trying to pick up a rather large log that had just come to rest at the riverbank; Baruk had just moved the log and Gaajah had wanted to do the same. His action in doing this had earned him some right good bloody hands and a pulled muscle in his arm.

Granted, he didn't know who Bile was anymore; he knew that he was big for his size, and that he was smoking, and that he was a pretty tough kid, but he didn't know if he carried himself in the same light that Baruk did. In his personal opinion, he thought that his adopted son was twice that of Baruk and Gajaah and Bohir and he also thought more highly of him too. The same went with Lhaklar and Hazaar; other than his thinking that the kid was strong and just as tough as Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar, he had no personal opinions right now on the Reezal boy.

After exiting his brother's ship, he walked right up to his younger half-brothers; the last outing to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic hadn't brought up anything for a reason—his nephew, Vile, had rushed him and his grandfather. Due to Vile saying that he wanted to get back on Earth and fast, they had found nothing; his nephew's claim of wanting to get back on Earth to not miss out on seeing Angel and the boys had seemed so far fetched to both he and his grandfather—they had known that it wasn't Angel and the boys who he was so in a hurry about. It was Thrax. His nephew's grandson had his nephew so wrapped around his finger that he couldn't think straight much less walk a straight line anymore. Thrax had become his nephew's whole world; after being born, all Vile could think or revolve around was his grandson.

Vile was a proud man; he was proud in becoming a grandfather and he was proud of having Thrax as a grandson—this _did_ strike a cord with him. Here he was, with three living sons who had a grandfather who refused to accept or having anything to do with them and there was Rita Repulsa Vile, who had one son who was so adored by the man who had fathered his mother. Even during the meal with Lhaklar and Hazaar, he had been able to note the distance that Vile had with his sons and, really, he did have a feeling that they revered him in the same way.

TazirVile pushed the previous search of the archives at his old school to the far recesses of his mind; after reaching his two brothers, he latched on to the chore that was needed to be done now.

"Tazir," Efagti said after he stopped before him, his brother, and the newly arrived Gloar.

"I'm heading to Pronghorn," he said after acknowledging each of the men with a smile and then a quick nod of the head. "I'm in need of some extra eyes, and of someone who isn't interested in moving things along at a lightning-fast pace. Either of you three interested in helping me out?"

"I'm game," Gloar said. "If there's anything with which I can help you out with, I'm always available."

"Same here," Efagti said.

"I'd love to but pop says that I need to head home to help him in tending the animals and produce." Amadh said in an apologetic way. "Maybe next time."

"Good luck—watch the Almas when you shear them. They're worse than the sheep—they kick something fierce!" Efagti said.

"Thanks for the advice, much appreciated. "Amadh said as he stepped back. "Same to you—hope you find something."

"Same here," TazirVile said. He then teleported; while he had a triple gold flash to his post-teleportation effect Efagti had a warping effect to his. Gloar's post-teleportation effect had a distortion-like effect to it.


	32. Part 4

"You got that b—" Bile stopped short after entering the kitchen; after seeing the blue binder, that looked to have more than enough laminated sheets in it, he had figured that it was Lhaklar who was in the room. Instead of finding Lhaklar in the room, hovering over his newly purchased ring-binder, he found that it was Hazaar. "You now?"

"Lhaklar's not the only one who's been clipping the articles that have been written on us from the papers." Hazaar replied. "He's got a binder now too. Don't know where, but he went off somewhere after clipping the two articles, that were written on us, that were in the two papers, that were found on the table this morning. Managed to do a spell that made duplicates of the papers before he went in with the scissors."

"What're they saying on us now?" Bile asked.

"Nothing but the pure fact that the man who created me, Lhaklar, and Lazeer did another search for our school records." Hazaar replied, then looked up. "The son of a bitch found them."

"All of them or—"

"He has each and every one of our records now," Hazaar's wrap-around, deep purple eyes were locked on Bile's glowing yellow-green ones; Bile automatically knew that a repeat question wasn't needed to be done. Hazaar had closed himself off to answering any duplicate questions on the subject of their school records being found. "Apparently, he found them a few weeks ago; he changed each and every one of them to having our real names on them sometime last week. Along with our school records, he also found the records that you made in track, Lazeer's Mechanics class records, the forms that say that I was a member of Pronghorn's school band, and—" he looked down at the floor for a second before locking his eyes on his brother's again. "—your, my, and Lazeer's detention records."

He cringed at the mention his lone detention record being found; the lone detention that he had gotten during his time at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic had only come around after he had lost his temper on a fellow classmate. He had just broken the record for the two-mile run; the hype over his breaking the record that had been made by some guy named RosolVile Yilsivoor Surfeit had yet to die down... there had been more than four school newspaper reporters either tagging at his backside or driving him batty after he entered such and such room or hallway. One of them newspaper reporters had gone too far on him, which had caused him to get both angry and to throw a fireball at him.

Now that he was older, he knew that the kid responsible for his gaining his lone detention had only been doing as he had been appointed to do by the school paper and he also knew that it had just been the excitement over his breaking a record that had stood for many thousands of years that had driven the guy to stalk him. The kid, a Gusneo Blokni, had just wanted to know where he got his speed and endurance from, and how he managed to train himself to being as fast as he was—two very innocent things that, sadly, he had grown frustrated about; with the kid following him wherever he went, and asking them questions again and again, he had just grown plain annoyed and frustrated with him. He had been fine with the act of running on the track, and breaking records, and answering a small lot of questions from the school's newspaper reporters, but he hadn't been fine with the constant stalking and question asking.

Three days after he had set the 2:36:34 record for the two-mile run, he and Lhaklar had sat down to lunch—they had the same lunch hour and would make a special point to eat together; just because they had been enrolled in the school under different names, and had been told to be careful of how they acted around one another, didn't mean that they hadn't regarded one another in a brotherly way or hadn't hung around one another when there was time to do that. Gusneo had come up, asking him his same questions; with lunch being "ruined", he had made the decision to go off to the bathroom—the only place, he had thought, where common decency and privacy and respect were given. Gusneo had followed both he and Lhaklar, who had decided to get up and then follow him, to the bathroom and then had had the nerve to ask him why he, a record-breaker, would want to hang around with someone who looked no faster than a slug. That had been the deal-breaker for him; he had exploded, and then swung his fist. Gusneo had, luckily, ducked out of the way; while he had been unhurt the trash can that had been in the bathroom, along with the wall that the trash can had been in front of, hadn't.

Lhaklar had run track as well, and he had done some decent to halfway decent runs, but, since he had been the one breaking the records, he had gotten all of the lime light. Lhaklar, though starting off slow, due to his height, and to his not being able to figure out his legs, had been able to breeze like a bullet during the longer-held runs while the shorter ones had been his downfalls. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, his adoptive father, and his brothers' biological father, had been clocked a few times at going a mile in 3:05:59... Lhaklar had been clocked five times at going 3:02:56 for a mile—if not for being so prematurely tall, he would of probably been able to go faster than that.

Hazaar hadn't gone out for track; he hadn't had an interest in doing that but he had had an interest in music. He had been involved in the school's music classes, and he had been in the school's band for a while before deciding to drop out to concentrate on his studies. During his tenure in the school's band, he had played both the trumpet and then, near the end of his tenure in band, the flute. Lazeer, due to his eye ailment causing him to remain indoors, hadn't run track either. No outdoor activities at the school had been done by him; instead, he had been enrolled in the school's Mechanics classes. He was right smart with both mechanical and technical things—why he hadn't been enrolled, or had asked to be enrolled in the school's Technical courses, was beyond him, his brothers, and their mother.

He was fine with his adoptive father having and changing the name on his school records while, on his single detention record, he was plain uncomfortable with the man having that. His mother had sent him a Screamer, a letter that one typically wrote by mouth, and that was always said in an angered tone after one opened it, right after word had been received about his getting detention; she had really gotten on him for his damaging school property—the trash can and the wall that had been behind it—and for his use of his powers on school property. She, as was natural for any parent who's kid had damaged property that was owned by an educational facility, had had to pay for the damaged wall and for a new trash can—why she had been required to pay for the latter was beyond him; an item of that sort cost... what, ten or twelve dollars? He personally thought that the school had gone overboard on the charge for the new trash can.

He was going towards the fridge when he stopped cold in his tracks; how did his younger brother know that his adoptive father had his one detention record again?

"Please don't tell me that one of the articles that you mentioned mentions my one detention in it." Bile said after turning to look at his brother.

"One does a minor mention of your one strike—in contrast, it has a full description of mine and Lazeer's in it." Hazaar replied.

"I've already gotten my one-way ticket to Alaska." Lazeer said as he entered the kitchen. "Hazaar and you will be the only one of us Detention-Getters to go into the dog-house."

"How'd you get the money to get a one-way ticket to Alaska?" Bile asked his youngest brother.

"Haven't you seen the news lately? My pretty mug is all over the stations because I robbed a bank last night. Was also seen "sneaking" into the local Kentucky Fried Chicken twenty to thirty minutes later—I snarfed all of your precious chicken and rolls before deciding to return home. I just ate then left—the management is more than pissed over me not paying for what I ate." Lazeer replied.

"You better of brought something home for me after heading to KFC, man." Bile said. "I have been craving—CRAVING—a thing of chicken from that place."

"Go there and get one then." Hazaar said. He felt his temper take a-hold of him right then and there; with his temper being noted as being flared, he decided to head to the bathroom to fix his hair. "There's a few new articles in there—read them if you want."

Hazaar stood up then left the kitchen; Bile went to the fridge, then opened it, then took one of the frozen pizzas out. He and his brothers were absolutely not allowed to leave the apartment; after what happened three weeks and three days ago, their mother was scared over someone pulling the old Hurt Of The Sons act on them just for their having gone to protect her from the ones who had been trying to take her from them.

The thought of putting one of the neighbors in charge of them had been spoken of soon after they were two-day rested from their ordeal with Trobrencus and his son and them Goblins; he and his brothers had put up such a stink over that idea that she had just said for them to plain remain their asses inside. They weren't allowed to go out on the town; they weren't allowed to go out in the backyard; they weren't allowed to go out in the front yard; and they weren't allowed to let anyone into the apartment.

Regardless of their not being allowed to leave the apartment, their November allowances had still been given to them; half of what they had been given had been mom-spent while the rest had been "snuck-spent" by them. Lazeer was the one responsible for coming up with the idea of their asking their mother if she could get them the magazines that they purchased each month; a list of magazines had been made, then their mother had been asked if she could get them for them, then a deduction of their monthly funds had been done after she had said yes, then their magazines—pornographic included in the mix—had been bought and then given over. Even though they weren't allowed to go out on the town they had still managed to go out to get the rest of the stuff that they got each month. Lhaklar and Hazaar had managed to "sneak" out of the apartment about two hours after their mother had shoved off to her new stationed workplace—ma had been transferred to working in Fremont County right after what happened between them, Trobrencus, Trivit, and the Goblins; the management of Green River, Wyoming's Food Lion had just decided that having her working in their store would be too risky, they had decided to ship her to the store that was located in Atlantic City instead of putting her on paid leave or firing her. A few things of model paint and glue, and their monthly smokes, had been purchased during their outing. He and Lazeer had followed in their example two days after that "sneak-out" was done. None of them had chanced leaving the apartment after them trips were done; surprisingly, their mother had said nothing on Lhaklar and Hazaar having their new models or about the items that went along with the building of their new models.

Since they didn't want to chance the neighbors noticing them being outside, or smoking, and then narking on their mother about what they had seen, they were just throwing the windows of their bedrooms open and then having a quick smoke before slamming them back down again.

The Food Lion where their mother had formerly been working at had been closed for all of a week following what occurred between them, Trobrencus, Trivit, and the Goblins; safety concerns for store customers and for the county's civilians had been on the top of everyone's lists so it had been mutually agreed for the store to be closed and then kept closed for seven days before being re-opened.

With it being close to being noon, he thought that it was appropriate to have lunch. Once the pizza—he was a fan of having sausages, pepperoni's, and green peppers on his pizzas and it just so happened that there were two of them types of single-serving pizzas in the fridge's freezer compartment—was in his hand, and then was out of its plastic, it was placed on a cooking sheet and then slid into the oven. With it being a fifteen minute wait, he went to the kitchen table; he sat down then started looking at some of the items that had recently been added to his younger brother's binder.

From the Mooshang _Boogle_ , October 26, 4099 (Page 1)  
Records Belonging to the Princes of the Vaisha, Andromeda, and Bula Galaxies Discovered

It seems that the second time was the charm for TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit because, upon returning to sift through the archives of the esteemed educational facility known as Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic, he found what his previous search hadn't yielded. After five hours of searching, he, and his two companions, Efagti Ubalki, one of his half-brothers born through Ashaklar Zoopray, and Gloar Rovnitov, his neighbor and good friend, discovered a track record that had been made by a student named Elib Eliv over a thousand years ago. This record, which had been set by Mr. Surfeit's nephew, Vile Vile, who's better known as Master Vile by many, stood for many thousands of years before being broken and, until now, no one outside of the school's grounds knew anything about it; the old record for a mile, which had been set at 2:06:54, was broke and then reset to a sizzling 1:48:12 by Mr. Elib. This record, after being set eleven hundred years ago, is still in place today.

It's being said that Mr. Surfeit nearly discarded the record; before the record could be returned to the cabinet that it had been found in, Mr. Surfeit's half-brother noticed and then pointed out the fact that Elib Eliv was Bile Vile spelled backwards. Soon after that discovery, TazirVile Surfeit and Gloar Rovnitov discovered other records made by the youngster.

The Surfeit family is one of few that has made several records that have lasted for thousands of years; the record that Master Vile set when he was just barely into his one hundred and fifth year at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic was tested by many hundreds of thousands of pupils. Until his own son, under the name of Elib Eliv, became a student at the school, no one who took to trying to match or break it had come close. Elib Eliv broke the record on his one hundred and third year at the school. Besides Bile's 1:48:12-mile record, his records for the mile and a quarter—which was set at 2:00:45—and for two miles—2:36:34—were also found. All of the records that he broke and then reset were made by members of his own family.

"Rosol, my brother, shocked many when he set his two-mile record of 2:48:54—he just blasted that track apart when he made that record... he'd be more than a little proud over hearing that one of his own family reset the record that he made when he was a student at the school." TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit, RosolVile Yilsivoor Surfeit's younger and only surviving brother, said after hearing the news of his brother's record being broken by Bile, his great-great-great-great nephew.

Master Vile, upon discovering that his own son had broken a record that he had made over eighty thousand years ago, was floored after hearing how fast his son had been going. Angel Irene, Bile Vile's mother, had been clocked at running a mile in 3:12:54; according to the woman who coached her, and her classmates, she would of gone faster if she hadn't of gotten so tall so fast. The mile and a quarter record that Bile Vile broke and then reset had been set by his own grandfather, KurukVile Shonsinu Surfeit, while the record that he broke and then reset for the mile and a half run had been set by his uncle, TriskullVile Vuupipii Surfeit. Bile Vile, besides running and placing records in his track meets—which are all said to be untouchable by both school and non-school officials—, was also on the wrestling team at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic. He was Wrestling Champion for nearly fifteen years before retiring to focus on his studies. The young son of Master Vile had a fine grade point average of 4.1; he only received one detention while enrolled at the school.

Also discovered were the records for Mr. Surfeit's two, biological sons—LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit and HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit. It's being said that the first search for their records wasn't successful because Mr. Surfeit had been looking for forms that had his sons' correct names on them; he only found the records after getting the idea of looking for the backwards spelling of his sons' names. His idea paid off better than grand—he found all of the records on the boys after deciding to look for the forms that had his sons' names spelled backwards on them.

His firstborn son, Lhaklar, who went by the name of Ralkahl Uhsolc Tiefrus when he was a student at both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy, also ran track; though having some decent clockings to his runs his running times were barely noticed after his brother's records were placed. Lhaklar's record at both schools is clean, with no detentions or school-related discrepancies noted; his grade point average at both schools is said to be a decent 3.6. His younger brother's records, on the other hand, show a surprising side to the secondborn son of TazirVile Surfeit.

HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit, who went by the name of Raazah Rialt Tiefrus, had an average grade point average of 3.1 at both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy; though it was the gaining of his school records that attracted a lot of attention from his father his father was most noted as being more focused on the detention record that his son had. Apparently, the secondborn son of TazirVile Surfeit had a tendency to being unruly in the classroom—it's being said that he fought with other students; was quite mouthy with both teachers, school officials, and classmates; and caused classroom disruption during his tenure at both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy. In total, HazaarVile Surfeit spent five sessions in detention for his misbehaviors in both schools. While Hazaar didn't take track, like his older brothers did, he did take a course in music; it's being said that he was in the Pronghorn Band for fifty of the two hundred years that he spent at the school.

"He was a good pupil, just had some issues with controlling his temper." Arkav Lihdrel, HazaarVile Surfeit's Spells and Potions teacher, said when questioned about the young son of TazirVile Surfeit, who he also taught when he had gone to the school. "I actually had three "Tiefrus" students in my class—two at the same time, even. All were exceptional students, got their work done way before everyone else, and also did their potions and spells on the first try—the younger "Tiefrus" boy especially so."

TazirVile Surfeit has now broadened his searching to include other schools in the Universe; he is hoping to find what other educations his sons have had over the years.

From the Rock Springs _Rocket Miner_ , October 27, 4099 (Page 2)  
Local Food Lion Taken Over By Monsters?

Local authorities are wondering if the workers at the Food Lion, located on Brooks Boulevard in Green River, Wyoming, were drinking or doing drugs while on the job because, after radio and television signals went out, and the phone lines went down, a report was sent to the police station, located on Oak Street, about a potential problem occurring with a group of monsters. The reports that came in claimed that the group of monsters, which consisted of mostly Goblins, and around two to three creatures of reputed Zombie-like appearance, were attacking a woman and four other civilians in the parking lot of the store. Though the report was looked into, nothing was found to either confirm or deny that the sighting, or assault, occurred—except for a bunch of damaged vehicles being found, no Goblins or Zombie-like creatures were found and no civilians ran up saying that they had been attacked by the creatures that the police had been notified about.

What is being smoked and what is being put in the drinking water of the town of Green River, Wyoming? Have select individuals decided to take it upon themselves to take up where the pranksters who pranked the counties of Park, Sheridan, Hot Springs/Washakie, and Johnson left off or have the pranksters who pranked them counties decided to set-up a temporary shop in Sweetwater County? Authorities are no longer answering calls concerning the fabled Goblins and Zombie-like creatures; the hope, by the members of the Oak Street police department, is that the ones behind the calls about the beasts will either grow tired of their pranks and then return to normal living or move on to a different area of Wyoming.

From the Zeta Aoneon _Triboon_ , October 31, 4099 (Page 2)  
Once Again, Who Is Reezal Bakerly?

Along with the discovery of Bile Vile's, LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit's, and HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit's school records there was another discovery that has some scratching their heads. A hundred years after HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit was enrolled as a student at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic another "Tiefrus" boy was enrolled, this one going by the name of Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus. Gloar Rovnitov, the neighbor and good friend of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, is credited with the discovery of the boy's records at both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy—the latter where it seems that three "Tiefrus" boys were enrolled in at the same time.

Sources claim that, after an encounter on October 25, where Reezal Bakery fought alongside his said-to-be family in the parking lot of an Earthly grocery store, the idea was put into Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's head about searching the school archives at both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy again—Mr. Bakerly, as he's called by many, apparently had keen insight to wand wielding and knew various spells with which could be used with a wand; it's being said that he and Mr. Surfeit's cousin, TrivitVile Afck Surfeit, fought on the day of the encounter and that Mr. TrivitVile Surfeit was beaten back by the youngster. Mr. Surfeit's first search through the two schools' archives, which occurred on October 7, wasn't successful because he was looking for his sons' correct names; only after going back to the schools for a second search, and then coming up with the idea of switching his sons' names around to being backwards, was he able to find what he was looking for. The discovery of one of Bile Vile's track records at Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic is said to be the cause behind Mr. Surfeit's idea on looking for records that have his sons' names on them that were spelled backwards.

Who is Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus? Is he important to TazirVile Surfeit's search and is he Reezal Bakerly? According to some sources, he is on both of the latter questions—teachers at both schools, who had the boy as a student in their classes, and who also taught the other "Tiefrus" boys, claim that the boy was related to the other "Tiefrus" boys that they taught and that they did, on occasion, act brotherly towards one another.

"While we're aware that the boy's school-given name is that of my lastborn son's name spelled backwards we're still clinging to the notion of Mr. Bakerly—if that's his real name—being an adopted child of my wife's and that he was given my and Angel's lastborn's name spelled backwards as an honor thing after our lastborn succumbed to one of the planet's plagues or natural disasters." Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit said after being asked about his findings at the two schools, and about his knowing that Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus is Lazeer Zuluduz Surfeit spelled backwards.

Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus had a fine grade point average of 3.8; with the exception of Math, where he received a satisfactory grade in, he was said to be a naturally gifted student by his appointed teachers. Curiously, though, he has an outstanding record for detention—this was one item that did not get past Mr. Surfeit's eye. Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus spent twelve sessions in detention during his tenure in both Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic and the University of Telepathy; the act of causing classroom disruption, causing fights due to his created classroom disruptions, and his uncanny ability of being a bit of a jokester were the reasons behind his given detention sessions.

The student didn't go out for track; instead, he enrolled in, and got an excellent grade in, a Mechanics class, which was taught by one named Olsfiss Octorus.

Mr. Surfeit, who has searched through the archives of around half of the known educational facilities in the Universe, has found no further school records of either his sons or of the Reezal boy; at present, it looks like his three sons—Bile Vile, LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, and HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit—and the Reezal boy only have one to two educations under their belts.

As Bile was turning the laminated sheet, that contained the Zeta Aoneon _Triboon_ article on it, over so he could read the articles that were on the next two laminated sheets of his ring-binder, he was getting ready to do his hair.

To one who looked at things through a normal perspective, the bathroom that he was in looked normal. The tile floor use to be a blue color, and it use to have green and light blue wispy designs on it; now, due to both age and use, the tile was faded in many places. It was also nearly out underneath the room's stationed sink. The sink was one of them old, pedestal types; like with the tile floor, it was faded—the "white" coloration of the piece use to be blue a long time ago. There were many chipped areas around the sink's basin; due to the sink's age, the pipes that ran into it had been re-done several times. The toilet was one of them newer models; the old one had cracked on them almost immediately after they had moved into the place so, instead of running the risk of having toilet water wash all over the floor after one flushed, or getting a chaffed ass from sitting on the jagged edges that had run along the toilet's bowl, they had gotten a new one. The blue plush toilet bowl cover that was on the toilet matched the rug that ran around the toilet's base and that was sitting before the room's bathtub; the room's bathtub was also one of them newer models—all sorts of cracks had been present in the old one, and there had been all sorts of gunk and grime on the thing as well, which had more than warranted their mother's attention in wanting to get a new one. The curtain that was on the rod that was over the bathtub had a beach and ocean setting on it that was quite showy.

The mirror that was over the bathroom's stationed sink was a few hundred years old—but it looked as new as could be—and so was the cabinet that was to the left of the mirror. The cabinet, one of them basket types that seemed more than fitting for any bathroom, had five shelves in it; the toothpaste that he and his family used every morning and then late evening, a bar or two of soap, a bottle of shampoo, and a stack of wash rags were neatly arranged inside it. The little container of powder, and the bath beads, that were on top of the cabinet were only used by their mother—he and his brothers preferred to not have the soft, smooth skin that one of the female gender would have; they'd much rather have the hard, rough and tough skin that one of their gender would have. The medicine cabinet, that had all of their medicinal items in it, was above the toilet.

Like with the room's faded floor tile, the wallpaper, in certain places, was faded too; at one time, the wallpaper had been an ocean-blue color. It was now a mostly white, dingy white, and "green" color. Behind the toilet, the wallpaper was completely rubbed off while, on the walls that the bathtub was up against, it was very fragile. The white-painted ceiling above had a popcorn texture to it, which he thought went very well with the rest of the room; the light beam that was in the ceiling's center had a single, yellow bulb in it that lit the room relatively well.

Yes—it was nothing more than a plain, normal bathroom... for now, at least. While staring at his reflection in the mirror, he reached down to the waist of his pants; he took the wand that was embedded in the loops of his pants out then flicked it. Now the normalcy of the room ended; it was now time to make the bathroom look like something out of a carnival.

"Mirror in front of me grow. Circle around. Wrap around this room, but keep your crisp, clear reflection." he said after flicking his wand.

The wand that he was using was the exact same one that he had gotten after doing all them forms after finally reaching Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; once them forms were done, then looked over and then signed by the dean of the school, and his mother, he, along with the others who's forms had also been done, were marched out to a small-brick structure that was on the school grounds. This structure, which had a sign on it that said Wand Fitters, had smelled of stale books, and had been covered in enough dust and spider webs to make his mother scream herself to a coma; after entering the structure, then being told to line up, he and his new classmates had been given some instructions by an aged woman, who's hair had been so long, and so gray, that it had nearly tripped her up as she walked.

This woman had explained that beginner wands were different than that of what was specifically made or home-based created; the wands that, he presumed, his father and his kooky family owned and used had cost some hundred to maybe thousands of dollars while his had simply been "given" to him for free.

"These wands, the ones that you'll use during your stay here, and during the first thousand to two thousand years of your life, will fly after I raise this sheet." the old woman had said after going towards a counter, that a very dusty and stained-up sheet had been over. "Do not come forward to claim one—these will pick their users themselves."

Fifty wands had been on that counter; no one had dared to more from the line that had been formed before the counter, he and his classmates had simply waited for the wands to fly up from their stationed area and then "pick" the ones that were to use them. The wand that had picked him as its user was straight and light yellow in color; it had a crystal ball on its kell from which a tightly woven strand of dark leather ran from. It was a good wand and he was rather fond of it.

The mirror before him slowly grew out from the sides; at first, it just grew out towards the room's two opposing walls then it started curling around him. He stayed in place; he said not a word nor moved a muscle. When the distorted mirror stopped growing, and curling around him, he was trapped—he was fine with this; this was how he did his hair.

With the mirror now being distorted, he looked down at the floor; a single jab of his wand did the trick in causing a section of the tile floor to pop up. A brown oak box floated up; he was just putting his hands on it when an additional two more came up from the floor. He grabbed these two, additional boxes, then he said the spell for them to hover beside him, then he opened and started sifting through them.

While true, he didn't just use his monthly allowance on candy, he did, on occasion, blow it on beads, feathers, and hair-use rubber bands—all of this cost him $8 at the local convenience store; the rest of what he had left over was either used on the purchase of his magazines, or on a model, and his smokes. If he had anything left over, he usually either sat on it until next month's allowance came in or he used it on something that he thought his mother would either like to have or needed to have.

"BroSis... BroSis... BroSis..." he heard that Eshal-girl—his half-sister—say in his ear.

"Shuddup!" he thought with a hiss.

BroSis? What a friggin' nickname! Did he look anything like a girl? Did he have the makings of a chest, or "junk in the trunk", or the curved hips, or the bone and musculature of a female? That was a big hell no! He was all male; just because he had hair didn't mean that he looked anywhere near like that of a girl and just because he liked fixing his hair up didn't mean that he acted like a girl either. He cast what his half-sister had called him to the far recesses of his mind as he reached into the first of the boxes that had come up from the floor.

The thin, metal rod was what he took out from the box first; he had tried using a single chopstick on his hair once... not only had the thing been too big to grab his hair with but it had also been too fragile to use. That chopstick had been broke on day two of its purchase and then use. Once the rod was in his hand, he used it; the first four inches of this eight and a half inch rod was shoved into his hair, then twisted three times, before being pulled to the side. The spell to make the strand of hair that the metal rod had collected become a quarter braided was done, then a yellow bead was placed on the strand, then the spell was said again, then another yellow bead was placed to his hair; his did this one more time before placing a rubber band to the end of the strand of hair that he had collected. The metal rod was used twice more—a yellow feather was placed in-between a fully braided strand of hair then another strand of hair was half braided before being capped off with a rubber brand—before being returned to the box that it had been retrieved from.

"That'll just about do it." he said after giving his reflection a thumbs up, and then the middle finger.

With his hair tended, he went to place the boxes back to where they had come from. The first box that he had taken up from the floor had the most important items in it—the metal rod, which was nothing more than a piece of chicken wire; a small brush; a small comb; and a pair of silver-chrome hairdressing scissors—while the second contained the stuff that he used to spiff his hair up with.

Two, four inch long by two and a half inch wide plastic containers were in the second box; these had his collection of red, yellow, light blue, and light purple beads in them. An additional set of plastic containers, that were the exact same size as the ones that the beads were in, had a collection of red, yellow, light blue, and light purple feathers in them. The final item that was in the second box was a small, round, ceramic bowl; this had nothing but hair-made rubber bands in it.

The third box contained the items that he no longer used on his hair—the hair color dyes, the gaily-colored beads and feathers, and the ribbons that were in this box had been experimental buys. He had only purchased these items to see if they'd go well with his style and with his hair. Two years ago, after finally deciding to try the dyes, he had purchased two containers of light purple and black hair color dye; a single application had damn near caused him to have a heart attack—instead of turning a single strand of his hair black the whole of his hair had been dyed that color. In all, it had taken him four or five washings just to get his original hair-color back—he had never used the dyes again after this experience occurred. The ribbons, after a single use, had been placed in the box and then mostly forgotten—the single use of these had made him look like a girl, which he had not liked. The gaily colored beads and feathers had been given the same treatment as the ribbons had been—after seeing how ridiculous they had made him look, and after seeing how girlie he had looked, he had slapped them to the box and then mostly forgotten about them.

He preferred to keep his hair at four and a half inches long—not only did he look downright strange with longer hair but it was also rather hard for him to keep up with the demands of keeping hair of longer length cleaned and well-maintained. At the moment, he was content with keeping his hair at the length that it currently was—which was his preferred length. It took just four or five strokes with the brush to get the outside tangles and knots out while it took a little over eight strokes with a comb to get the interior tangles and knots out; he typically only used the comb and brush in the morning hours—after getting up and then getting dressed for the day. Suave was the brand of shampoo that he used on his hair—his mother used this same shampoo on her hair; it looked to be holding up well with her and it was sure doing him and his hair well.

After fixing his hair, then putting the boxes back into the floor, he said the spell that'd make the mirror return to its original state. The mirror had just returned to being as it had been before it had been distorted, and he had just placed his wand back in the loops of his pants, when someone started pounding on the door.

"What!" Hazaar exclaimed after opening the bathroom door.

"You keep that up and there _will_ be problems between you and me." Lhaklar threatened.

"Whatever," Hazaar said. "What do you want?"

"Got plans to do something up here Mr. Snappy-Pants or will you be joining your brothers down in the cellar?" Lhaklar asked.

"I have a model train engine to build and a few new magazines to look at." Hazaar said as he elbowed past his brother. "If I feel up to it, I might mosey on down later."

His brother gave him a tired look then turned to go towards the kitchen; when he turned after reaching the room that he was going towards, he automatically knew that he was headed towards the cellar, which came off the kitchen.

While he was curious as to what "his brothers" were doing in the cellar he had a feeling that Bile was assaulting his old punching bag—Lazeer called this old, ancient thing Bile's "sacred sack"; none of them gasped or threw up any disputes on this because even they thought of the thing as that. Lazeer could be doing a menagerie of things; there were dumbbells down in the cellar—he could be lifting one or two of them—and there were a few weight sets in the cellar as well. The weight sets that they had had the numbers 20, 50, and 100 on them; the many dumbbell sets that they had had the numbers 5, 10, 15, 20, and 50 on their ends—except for when they were getting over a bout of soreness, or an illness of some sort, they mostly used the higher numbered dumbbells. If Lazeer wasn't doing one of them two things then he was simply sitting around, watching as the foam and stuffing of Bile's "sacred sack" flew after its "owner's" fists collided with it.

What he had said was true—he _did_ want to get back to building, and then painting, his spooky model train engine and he _did_ want to look at the magazines that he had purchased while being "snuck-out" of the apartment. With the location of his brothers known, and with his hair taken care of, he went down the hallway to his and Lazeer's bedroom; after he entered the room, he left the door halfway open and then went to where his model was. The little bit of space that was between the foot of his bed and the wall of the room's left side was where a small pedestal table sat; the building of both his and Lazeer's models took place here. They either used the small stool, that was currently in the room's closet, or the end of his bed as the item that they sat on during the building of their models was being done.

With the exception of the caboose, which he had simply stolen from the store by saying a spell that would send desired items from one place to another, everything that was on the table had been purchased with the money that he had gotten earlier that month. At the moment, it was just the bottom part of the model's engine that was complete; the wheels, axles, pulleys, and so on were glued to the base of the engine well, it was now time to put the internal pieces, sides, and top on the base—the actual painting of the engine would take place after all of this was done.

 _The Spooktacular Train... The Most Fearsome Train Known To Ride The Tracks_ ; that was what the uppermost part of the box had said. Along the bottom of the box it said, _Comes complete with track pieces, signs, moss, ghosts, a skeletal driver if builder wants to have an extra spooky feeling to his, or her, model, and six bottles of paint_ ; a fib had been discovered after the box was opened and then after all of the parts were pulled out and then arranged on the table. Instead of six bottles of paint he had found just three—and all three of them box-found bottles of paint had been found to be as dry as can be. His brothers didn't know this but he had actually "escaped" the apartment four days ago; the box had been shown to the manager of the store that it had been purchased from, then the dry paint bottles had been shown—not only had he been given three, new bottles of paint but also an additional three more bottles of paint and $10 back on his purchase.

"People who sell things should check what they're selling—it'd save them, and their customers, the worry and embarrassment of finding something either broken or missing in the box and then needing to either get a refund for that missing or broken item or needing to find something to replace the item that's missing in the box." he thought as he sat on the end of his bed.

The glue that was on the final shelf of the three-shelf containing cabinet that overlooked the pedestal table was taken down and then used; he had the sides, the internal pieces, and the top on the train's base in fifteen minutes time. With this done, he reached for the paintbrush, that was in a water-fill mason jar, that was on the same shelf that the glue had been retrieved from. Once the brush was in his hand, he dried it off on the end of his shirt; he took the jar of black paint from the cabinet's second shelf next, then took the cap off of it, then started using it after the paintbrush was dry. He wanted the base of the train—both on the engine and on all of the included cars—to be black while the rest of the train he had plans to be creative with. He, in the next few days, had plans to sneak out from the apartment to get some red, brown, and gray paint—he wanted the sides of each of the model's cars to have a rusted look to them, and he also wanted the included track pieces to look rusty as well.

"Don't see any reason to not go all out on this thing." he thought after starting in on his model engine.

The thought of where he was going to put his model train, with the track and signs included, never crossed his mind. He, over the years, could of asked his mother if he could put some shelves up so his model train and spaceship collection could be displayed and he could of also put some shelves up so his model collection could be displayed without asking her permission to do so—he hadn't done so for a number of reasons. One, he had more than three model trains; two, he had more than five model spaceships; and three, Lazeer wouldn't like the idea of having the room being overly crowded or taken up with just stuff that he had either built or owned.

After the apartment had been gained, and then set up and moved into, both he and Lazeer had decided to do the mutual agreement thing on the room that had been set to the side for them—with their being away at the University of Telepathy at the time, neither of them had been able to get the room fixed up to their liking or even "move" into it; right after graduating from their second, and final, education, they had mutually decided to divide the room equally among themselves. He had the left side of the room all to himself, and could do what all he wanted to do with it, while Lazeer had the room's right side all to himself. With neither of them wanting the room to get anymore cluttered than it already was, shelving would just not be able to be gained and then put up.

Not once had he ever wished that he had a room to call all his own, or that he wanted his brother to be moved to the cellar, or for one of his brothers to be kicked out so he could have their lived-in space; even though his brothers drove him crazy from time to time he loved them and he couldn't see himself living life without having them in it. A bigger place meant bigger bills and repairs, which would mean that Lazeer's goggled glass wouldn't be gained and that he'd be depressed for a longer duration of time—or, as much as it pained him to think it, for forever.

He could take the cramped, cooped up living arrangements that he was living in because he knew that everyone was happy. A little bigger place would be nice, yes, but, if it was too big he, and, he was sure that his brothers would feel this way too, would feel a bit overwhelmed.

"Better to live this way than to live in the way that my flip-dick of an old man does." he thought.

Bile and Lhaklar, though not knowing how the old man lived nowadays, had described to him how their father had lived before they had all been relocated to Earth—very extravagantly... his father was a very rich man who lived in a big mansion, that sat on a large piece of land that was complete with a horse stable, fenced in horse pastures and paddocks, goat and sheep pens, and an area where boats and boating equipment was stored. They had also mentioned something about the man having a kennel on his property too; the mention of his living near the beach had also been done. Bile had been raised in this location essentially since he was nine months of age and Lhaklar had been born and then raised in this location for a few hundred years? Bile and Lhaklar had been allowed to run around on the grounds that surrounded the big mansion that their father owned and lived in, and had played and rough-housed, and had made or caused trouble to happen while living in that sort of environment? With the way his two brothers were, he was almost willing to doubt the claim on their living in that sort of environment and what they had said on their father's living arrangements.

He still wondered if his father was one of them rich hauteurs who only let others—his children included in the mix—look at his stuff from a distance; was the man a rich snob, who threw cash at every opportunity that he found available to do so in, or was he one of those reserved rich people who spent a small amount of their "fortune" when something of extreme interest caught their eye? His mother had said that his father was a nice man some months ago—did that mean that he was decent and not a snob?

He was afraid to ask those questions and, owing to how he didn't know or trust the man, he felt a tinge of fear towards him.

He went on with his thinking for about half an hour; the sides, top, and interior parts of the train were glued on, then allowed to dry, and then a quarter of the way painted at the time that he decided to indulge in a little magazine reading. He put the paintbrush that he had been using in the mason jar, then he went to the bathroom to wash his hands of the paint that had gotten on them, then he came back to the room; a flop on the bed was down, then his shoes were kicked off, then he took the newly purchased November edition of Playboy out from underneath his shirt.

"We should really think about getting ma something pretty," Bile said as Hazaar was starting in on his magazine, and as he swung at his ancient punching bag. "Good things in the Flea Market... cheap, but damn fine and—"

"We're under orders to stay inside the apartment." Lhaklar said.

"And like we've complied fully with that order." Bile said back. "You, much like I and our brothers, have left the apartment. Nothing's happened."

Lhaklar looked at his brother; as much as it pained him, and his adult-trying conscious, Bile was right. He had partaked in leaving the apartment, and on more than one occasion too. Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer didn't know this but, after everyone was fast asleep for the night, he had snuck out to go to work. His deciding to take on the night-shift at Kale's World was the reason behind the family savings being so well right now—the $325 that had been in the family savings had been increased by $400; his mother, while curious as to how the savings hadn't been plummeted to less than what it was, hadn't said anything or, to his knowledge, connected the dots on his going out to work the night-shift at "Walmart".

"Didn't say that we're dropping ball and heading out now anyways, so drop the skirt that you're holding and cool it." Bile said to Lhaklar.

"What do you suggest we get for her?" Lazeer asked. "A dress or something?"

"Nice idea, yes, but I think she needs some jewelry." Bile said. "A necklace, or a few bracelets... if a dress is gotten for her then I think a sort of full-on outfit idea should be thought of. Y'know... a blue or a red dress with some shoes and a red necklace or bracelet? Something that'd match."

The cellar wasn't really small by any means; it was rather big and spacious and, thanks to the light fixture that their mother had put in the ceiling's center, and to Bile's created torches, it was very well lit up.

His oldest brother had a knack for making torches, or anything medieval for that matter, which he thought was cooler than cool. The torches, three a-piece on both of the cellar's opposing walls, were made of iron that had been burnt and then bent around to make a cone; Bile had burned the cone to give it an old, or antique, feel then he had taken a piece of tubing up. The clear piece of tubing had been glued to the torch-cones and then left overnight to dry; Bile, by way of using his Elemental Water powers to make a ball of water rise up from the half-full sink and then freezing it and then saying a spell that would keep it forever frozen, had made a series of crystals the following day. The Pulseren spell had been done after the crystals were complete; this spell caused the crystals to pulsate in hues of red, blue, yellow, and purple after one of them clapped their hands.

The washer and dryer were to the far side of the room; a simple line stretched before them—the clothes that couldn't be dried in the dryer were hung on this after being removed from the washer. The rest of the cellar they, and their mother, called the "gym". Bile's old, ancient-looking punching bag was hanging from a chain near to where the room's northern wall was; his brother had found this old piece, and the chain that it hung from, in the dump one day. After finding it, he had decided to bring it home, fix it up, and then put it up. Owing to the fact that it was fully wrapped in duct tape, it was a dull gray color—in order to keep the foam and stuffing inside the piece, Bile had decided to wrap it fully up in duct tape; it had taken him more than three rolls to complete the wrapping before announcing that it was ready to be used. Due to constant use, Bile had been forced to replace the foam and stuffing interior twice—or else, it'd look like one of them old, worn out pillows that really needed to thrown out.

He was sitting on the stairs that ran down from the kitchen; a long bench sat across from him—the two pipes that were on either side of it had a single flat bar on them, they used this when they wanted to lift weights. The bench had come from the dump while the pipes had been "stolen" from the train yard—they were really nothing more than discarded train tracks. They had been rather rusty when retrieved; Hazaar had done two days worth of work on ironing the rust away, and in strengthening them so they'd last against the purpose that they wanted to use them for. All of the weights and dumbbells that they had had come from the dump; either Bile or Hazaar had "junk checked", as Lhaklar liked to call it, to find them. Each of the weights and dumbbells that they used were on a handmade, two-shelf bookcase, which was four to five steps away from the bench.

Lhaklar, though also one to visit the dump to find stuff that may or may not be able to be put to use in the apartment, was constantly on them about their trips to the dump; he and his brothers were plain ignoring him whenever he went into his Daddy routine on what they should or should not bring home and on what they should or should not do while being outside of the apartment. Lhaklar had pretty much been shut up on the times that one of them had come home with something for their mother—the large, brown leather bag, for example, might of been dirty and in need of some serious maintenance but Lhaklar had said nothing adverse about it being brought home or even about it being fixed up and then given to their mother.

Their mother, to that day, loved that bag; she said that it was one of them old Italian leather bags that were made by some human named Marco Buggiani—this was her frequent-use bag... whenever she went out to shop, or went to work, she took the bag with her.

"Guess, since you found that bag, you're off the hook with your dump-doing trips." Lhaklar had said just before they had all decided to tag along with Bile on his next-done dump searching excursion.

Surprisingly, the pickings in the dump were very good; the humans threw just about anything out and that did include items that were in good shape, or that were newly purchased, or that had a few damages on them. Just before their father arrived on the planet, they had all gone to the dump to find something for their mother; he had found her two dresses—a red and purple one, that had a V-neck, and a ruched bodice, and a black one that had a low-cut back with beaded back straps—and an Art Nouveau leather and silver plated coin purse that had a burnished cicada bug clasp on the front. Their mother had been ecstatic after finding them items being given to her; he and his brothers, up to their father's appearance, had made a habit out of going to the dump once a week to maybe once per two weeks. They always brought something back from their trips that they either used in the apartment or that they gave to their mother or, if it wasn't appropriate for either of them things, or if no one wanted it, sold for a modest profit. Mama always let them keep the money that they got from the items that they brought back from the dump that they sold.

"Why don't we go to the dump? Might be something good for her there." Lazeer suggested. Bile responded by stopping his assault on his punching bag; he turned halfway around to look at him then he cocked his head to the side. "Y-you know... like the bag that she's always using that you found. There's good stuff there, y'know."

"Place has good things, yes, but what I'm talking about won't be found there." Bile said. "Ma needs something new, or something that's near-new, but that doesn't need to be cleaned before it's given to her."

"How about the Thrift Store then? They sell jeweled items for cheap and—"

"Not good enough. I'm talking about something that'll really make her eyes go pop." Bile said. "Something shiny, and pretty, and something that'll make the humans around her go 'hot damn she shmokin' hot!' "

"You make it sound like you want her to go out on a date." Lhaklar said. "Mom's been single ever since returning to this planet. She even fought off Atlas—remember how he was after he got his "stronghold" back? He was constantly following her around, or putting his hands or lips on her. She'd either go to pieces or bite his head off afterwards."

"I remember. I'm not saying for us to get her something that she'll use on a date. Just get her something nice to wear—something to say that she's loved." Bile said.

"I think everyone knows how much she's loved." Lhaklar said.

"Or wear when she's out on a friendly outing?" Lazeer said. "I think Casey called last week... she asked ma if she wanted to join her on her outing to Rock Springs."

"She did—I was naughty in listening to their conversation. Ma said that she couldn't because of all the shit that's been going on with our fathers and their lot." Bile said. He swung his fist; the punching bag was sent flying towards the ceiling after being struck. "I suggest that we suggest to her that we all go out. She and Casey go out this weekend to Rock Springs and we go up to one of the northern counties or something."

"I have work on Saturday, you know that." Lhaklar mumbled.

"Alright—just me, Hazaar, and Lazeer then."

"Guess I'm fine with that—if anything happens, we won't be in the area to get hurt and she won't be worried sick about us." Lhaklar said. He was fast in changing what he had just said. "Or, at least with you guys she won't be. I'll still be in the county so—"

"Man, fuck Kale's World. Go to that club in Rock Springs, or that big club up north in Park County... make a few hundred dollars then come home after your dirty dancing is done."

With a plan in place, they went on to do as they wished before the decision to do the chores that their mother would do right after coming home from work was made; Bile did the laundry—everything was cleaned, dried, then folded and put away—while Lazeer made use of a mop and bucket. The kitchen floor, the downstairs hallway, and the concrete slab that acted as the apartment's back porch were cleaned before he decided to go on to making supper. He found himself being teased during the supper-making—with himself being in the mood that he was in, he took it all in stride. The ham hock, that had only just been purchased, was placed in the bigger of the cooking sheets; it was glazed well before being placed in the oven. Homemade potatoes were made, then a few cans of French-style green beans were opened and then placed in a pot. At the last second, before their mother returned home, two things of dinner rolls were placed in the oven. Hazaar, who, before the ham was put in the oven, "got wind" of what they were up to, decided to use the vacuum on the living room and bedroom floors and on the upstairs hallway floor; he was just putting the vacuum away when the door to the apartment was opened.

Lhaklar did nothing but sit in the living room's Laz-Y-Boy all during the chore doing; though halfway agreeing earlier on the plan he was now not liking anything of what had been suggested or agreed upon. He didn't like the idea of his brothers leaving Green River, Wyoming and he didn't like his plan of sneaking out to work at Kale's World and he didn't like the idea of using the "excuse" of going out to get their mother something as a way to get out from the apartment either. He was perfectly fine with doing as their mother had said in staying inside and yet, here were his brothers, who wanted to both leave the apartment and go up north to do "mom-shopping".

"My goodness! Either something is up or I'm having a _very_ fine day." Angel said after entering the apartment. She was "ganged up on" by all of her sons, who gave her equal hugs a-piece, then she caught the whiff of something cooking. "Is that supper I smell?"

"Yeah, all made up." Hazaar said.

"Ham, green beans, rolls, and homemade potatoes." Lazeer said.

"I made sure to look over his shoulder—nothing was "slipped" into anything." Bile joked.

"I made sure that it was cooked well—none of us will need a hospital visit for food poisoning." Lazeer said.

"Now that the cat's out of the bag on who actually cooked the food yes we will." Hazaar shot, then shoved his elbow into his brother's ribs. A small elbowing match happened between he and Lazeer before their mother said for them to stop it.

"Lhaklar, you look upset." Angel said. She found herself as not being the one to remove her coat; Bile helped her from her coat, then "aided" her in the removal of her scarf and gloves. "Thank you, Biley." she said just as her oldest son went off to put her things in the downstairs closet. With herself undressed of her winter wears, she turned her attention to her secondborn. "What's wrong, Lhakie?"

Lhaklar was fast in spilling the beans on what they were hoping to do next weekend; he took their mother by the arm, then led her to the living room, then had her sit down, then he said all of what had been spoken of down in the cellar. He threw a curb in telling her that he, Hazaar, and Lazeer had only done the chores that she'd do after getting off work as a way to get what they wanted to do, which was to go upstate to do some shopping for her. He even told her that they wanted her to go out on "a date" with Casey.

Their mother said nothing all the while he was relying all of what they had spoken about; it was only when he was done talking that she spoke and that he and his younger brothers decided to sit on the couch. Hazaar was giving Lhaklar a mean stare while Lazeer was wringing his hands; he, instead of doing either of them things, was coming up with "ideas" on how to get on Mr. Tattle-Tale's nerves. The idea of tossing him from their shared bedroom that night was thought of, and so was the idea of his "kicking" him out of the kitchen when supper was served. In the end, he decided to just be as quiet and as cold shoulder-y as could be towards him; to him, Lhaklar was doing something that only a little child would do—instead of being "the adult" of him and his siblings by telling their mother what was up with them in a normal way he was throwing everything at her at lightning fast speed.

They hadn't done the chores as a way to get what they wanted and they hadn't been trying to butter their mother up either; they had simply done them to help her, who had just come home from work, out and to do something other than play video games or read magazines or build models or watch tv.

"Mama, we only want you to be happy. You've been stressed out a lot lately—we figured that, if you got out of town with Casey for a few hours, you wouldn't be as stressed out. You'd be able to unwind and have a little fun instead of being worried about the ones who live near Expedition Island." Bile said. "We didn't do any of the cooking or cleaning as a way to do a tendering on you—we wouldn't dare disrespect you... we wanted to lessen your workload. You come home after a hard day at work, you've been on your feet all damn day long, you need a break."

"We have never used the chore doing, or the meal cooking, as a way to get what we want. We know better." Lazeer said. This was more directed at Lhaklar than at their mother. "We just wanted to help our mother—all he did was sit there and watch us as we worked."

"I'm surprised that you didn't spill what was wanted to be purchased for her." Hazaar said to Lhaklar. "While I wasn't in the cellar with you guys, I was told what was spoken about. I think our going out to get our mother something pretty, like a dress, or some jewelry, is an innocent thing to do." the muscles that were in his arms, legs, and back quivered as he grew angered at his brother, who was giving him a blank look. "We wanted to get you something pretty and shiny, momma. Something that would say how much you're loved."

Angel looked from one of her children to the next; she understood that it wasn't easy on them to be cooped up, and she knew that it had been a while since they had done anything on their own outside of the apartment, and she understood how they felt towards Lhaklar's sudden outburst on what they had spoken about while being down in the cellar. She appreciated that three of her four sons had helped out to lessen her workload, and she appreciated the fact that her sons were trying to de-stress her by seeing if she'd go out with her girl-friend; while she felt no anger towards her sons she did feel a little bit frustrated with Lhaklar.

Lhaklar was the most mature of her sons, yes, but he did have a way of taking that a bit too far. She understood that he was only trying to bring her up-to-date on things, and she understood that he was only trying to be of some assistance in telling her what had been going on in the apartment, but he had overdone it in a very immature way. He had ratted his brothers out on something that he shouldn't have ratted them out on.

"Bile, Hazaar, Lazeer, I know how much I'm loved—obviously, it's quite a damn lot." she said. "What you three have done is very nice, and very generous, and I appreciate you for doing it. Lhaklar," she turned to look at her secondborn son. "I see no problem in your brothers doing what they've discussed in doing and I see no problem in their doing the chores or cooking supper. I also see no problem in me taking a day off to spend some time with my lady friend. Your father is here. Your father is in the south, baby."

"But if he knew—"

"He won't. He's got Green River under surveillance. The counties to the north, east, and west of here are safe from his eye." Angel got up then went over to her son; when she sat down, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know that you meant well by telling me what they had planned but, honey, what you just did was snitch on them. I see no problem in their going up north or to the west or east of here—just as long as they stay in the shield and keep their communicators on their persons at all times—and I see no problem in you joining them. Think we've all been a bit overly stressed lately... we all need to go out and do a little relieving."

"They said 'weekend', mom. If the day that they're planning on doing their "shopping" and outside-of-the-apartment activities falls on a Saturday then I can't go with them—I have work to do on that day, mom." Lhaklar said. He felt an inner hurt; while he hadn't meant to leap at his mother like he had, or spill the discussed plans of his brothers' so fast, he had meant to tell her what had been going on in the apartment during her absence and, sadly, it looked like his meant-to-do action had gone way over hand. He felt ashamed of himself for what he had just done.

"Don't think Walmart will mind lacking one of its employees on that day. Take a sick day—go out, be your age, and have some fun." Angel said. "Casey was saying something about going out to Fremont County this upcoming Saturday; after hearing what your brothers have planned to do I think I'll go with her."

"So... we can go out?" Hazaar stood up sharply; Angel was fast in looking at her thirdborn son.

"Yes, honey. You boys have my permission to go either east, west, or north of this county." Angel said. She then emphasized what she had said a few minutes ago. "Just stay in the shield, and keep your communicators on you. Before you head out to do as you want to this upcoming weekend, plug them into one of the apartment's outlets—that way they'll be good and charged for you."

"Mommy I love you so!" Lazeer shot up then ran over to his mother; he wrapped her up in a hug then planted two kisses on her cheek.

"My goodness! All of your hugs keep getting warmer with each giving." Angel said. She returned her son's hug then gave his forehead a kiss.

"Warm with our love for you, ma." Bile said. Like with Lazeer, he got up from his seat on the couch then went over to give her a hug.

"Now that we have the weekend all planned out, let's go into the kitchen. Let's hit that food before it gets cold." Angel said as she got up then started for the kitchen. Her sons followed her. She had only just reached the kitchen when she noticed the appearance of her thirdborn son's hair. "Hazaar, did you decide to fix your hair up today?"

"Y'like?" Hazaar held his hand back; the corners of his O-shaped mouth were curved up towards the ceiling slightly. "Figured that after a week of not doing anything with it that I should finally do something with it."

"Looks very good—not a hair out of place, which makes me wonder if you're not sneaking in a girlfriend while my back is turned."

"Girlfriend? I married Rita Hayworth last night. We're expecting a baby in nine months—your first grandchild." Hazaar said.

"He married Rita Hayworth, I married Jane Russell last night. We're expecting twins." Lazeer said.

"Silly boys." Angel laughed as she started making plates for everyone. "One day you _will_ make me a grandmother but, right now, keep it at just joking. I want no grandchildren until you four have reached the appropriate age of above five thousand years."


	33. Chapter 33

"Whoa! Lhaklar, your girlfriend changed her hair from black to green man!" Hazaar exclaimed after opening the door; his mother's friend, Casey Cooke, was on the other side. She was all bundled up in a black leather jacket; her short, black hair looked to of been styled recently—it had a slightly spiky appearance to it; the tips of each of her spike-up hair had been dyed to being green. He was fast in thinking that this was cool.

"Hello Hazaar, nice to see you this morning." Casey said. Hazaar was fast in moving out of her way; he beckoned for her to enter the apartment, which she did quietly. "Looks like you've done something with your hair too."

"Yeah, not long after I got up, I decided to hold up the bathroom for a few minutes." Hazaar said. His rattail had four strands of plain braided hair in it; the two strands of half-braided hair had a bright red feather stuck in them.

"Bet you made for some frustrated brothers." Casey said. When Hazaar came over to take her coat, she held her hand up. She voiced her desire in not wanting to stay for long silently.

"Oh yeah, Lazeer was howlin' mad." Hazaar said. "Bile came close to banging the door down a few minutes after he ran off to use the one that's on the second level."

"My goodness, think you guys need to put into consideration about getting an apartment that has three bathrooms in it. That way the bathroom police won't be getting any calls and that way you four won't be sending any doors to the hospital." Casey joked. "Has Lazeer gotten his glass yet?"

"No—we have a little over seven hundred saved up." Hazaar looked down; he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Lhaklar's got plans today—he'll be going someplace else while me and Lazeer will be nagging Bile until he's old and feeble. He'll be driving us to and then all around Lincoln County."

"Going away from the monsters who dwell beyond the misty shield—very wise thing to do my young friend." Casey said.

It had been decided right after a light meal of a pancake a-piece, and then a glass of their mother's natural milk, that he and Lazeer would be going with Bile to Lincoln County; their mother would be spending most of the day in Fremont County—since Casey had offered to take their mother in her car, their mother's Buick would be open and available for him and his brothers to use. Lhaklar had decided to forgo going to work that day; he had plans to head to Converse County. When asked why he was going there, he had said that he had plans to do some hunting in Medicine Bow National Forest—a deer, or a moose, was what he was hoping to bring down and then home. Their mother had given him her approval on that then she had given the suggestion that he, Lazeer, and Bile also do some hunting while being in Lincoln County; the weatherman had said that it'd be overcast until noon, then the sun would come out for about an hour or two before returning to being behind the clouds again. A small snowstorm was expected to happen later on that early evening—between two and eight inches of snow was expected to fall between six and eight o'clock. A warning for the citizens of their county to brace themselves had been made by the weatherman after the report on the small snowstorm was done—a bigger snowstorm, that was expected to dump nearly four feet of snow on them, was said to be right behind the smaller storm.

While he, Lazeer, and Bile had nodded their heads, then had said that they'd give her suggestion on going out to hunt a good consideration, they really had no intention of going out to hunt. They just wanted to do some shopping and walk around the picked location in Lincoln County where they were planning on going.

Lhaklar walked down from upstairs; he, who was wearing his good, brown leather jacket, that had tassels hanging down from the shoulders, and a coonskin cap, that had a raccoon tail attached to the back, stopped after seeing Casey.

"Please don't tell me that you're giving my brother pointers on dying his hair." Lhaklar said. Even though he was fighting the urge to cringe, he was smiling. "Look good, Case. Do it yourself?"

"No, my neighbor has the credit for this." Casey replied. "You look very nice—like the jacket."

"So do I—it's going to be cold out so I figured that I'd best wear this, and the cap. I'm going hunting today."

"How much did you throw for that?" Casey asked. "Where'd you get it?"

"The dump—you humans have an uncanny way of tossing things that still have good use in them." Lhaklar replied. "The back had some tassels on it as well, but they were falling off so I discarded them. Took nearly a week for it to be cleaned and then be able to wear."

"You have a good set of eyes on you—the next time you go to the dump, keep an eye out for a jacket like that for me." Casey said with a smile. "Where's your mother?"

"Upstairs. In the bathroom. Getting ready." Lhaklar replied, then added, "That is if Bile ever leaves her alone."

"Uh-oh, what's he up to now?" Casey asked with a chuckle. "Money?"

"Nope—we were given a few bills late last night; he's just hounding her like crazy on how to be careful." Lhaklar replied. He kept it to himself that he had also given her some pointers on being careful while she and Casey were out and about in Fremont County. "Hazaar and Lazeer were hounding her earlier."

"She knows that you boys are only doing that because you love her. That's a good thing that you're so close and protective of her—she's very appreciative of it." Casey said. What she had said was true—her friend had said that more than once to her. "We'll always be available to talk to—contact us on one of them things that you guys have, or stop by a convenience store and ask to use the phone. I have my cellular on me and I think y—"

All eyes turned towards their mother, who was just now coming down from upstairs; Bile was right behind her, he had her coat and other winter wears on his arm—this, they knew, meant that he was planning on not only helping her into her winter wears but also "escorting" her to Casey's Mercedes. Bile had done the "escorting" thing several times now; they knew that he'd be allowed to help her in getting dressed to leave but not to escort her to the vehicle that was to whisk her away from them—they were sure that their mother would say for him to "back off" just before heading out.

Their mother was wearing a pair of black slacks; the shirt that she was wearing was one of the ones that Hazaar had come across while "dump checking". It was made out of a purple satin material that was very soft; the low-cut front showed a small bit of cleavage, the sleeves were nearly non-existent. The pair of brown leather boots that were on her feet were the exact same pair that Lazeer had found for her while Christmas shopping last year while the purple satin belt that was around her waist had come from him—he had found it one day. With it hanging on a fence post, and with no one around that looked to be its owner, he had just taken it up and then walked on. Except for the ring that their father had given her as a wedding ring, she wore no jewelry; there was no makeup on her face—they would of wondered if she was their mother if there had been any on her face... their mother very rarely used makeup and, when she did, it was very faint to the eye.

The second that their mother's descent of the stairs was done they formed a tight circle around her; Casey looked on in silent shock as they started badgering her with "advice".

"Have fun while you're out," Lhaklar said.

"Don't worry about us," Bile said.

"Don't shake yourself too much for the men," Hazaar said. Casey's mouth dropped for only a second before being shut.

"Spend a little on yourself," Lazeer said. "Don't worry about my glass—it'll come one day."

"Flirt a little but not too much." Bile said. Casey rolled her eyes.

"Watch the hands," Lhaklar said. Casey's eyes grew large; she was sure that her friend was going to put a stop to the "advice"-giving soon. She looked a little uncomfortable, embarrassed, and annoyed by her sons' antics.

"We love you." Hazaar said. When he gave his mother a hug, he found himself being squashed—Bile, Lhaklar, and Lazeer ganged up on both him and their mother at the same time.

"Who's the adult again? I feel like I'm in the middle of four paternal units." Angel said. She returned the hugs given to her then she gave each of her sons a small kiss on the cheek. "My turn now. You four have fun on your outings; stay out of trouble and stay inside the shield. Cause a little mischief but not much and, Lhaklar—" Angel looked at her secondborn son. "—don't bring back the biggest deer or moose that you find. A medium-sized animal is good enough—don't over do it."

"We will!" Bile, Hazaar, and Lazeer said together.

"I promise," Lhaklar said. "I'll probably do some fishing as well—just to pass the time."

"And don't bring back the entire fish population in the river that you decide to fish in." Angel said. "You four have your communicators on you?"

"Yes," her sons said. Their communicators were then produced; the green light that was on their left sides showed that they were well-charged.

"Be back by three, no later." Angel said. She took her coat and other winter wears from Bile; after putting her things on, she elbowed past her sons. She refused Bile's "service" in escorting her from the apartment right after seeing that he was following her. "Keep an eye on Lazeer, Bile and Hazaar. If you see the sun coming out, rush him to an area that's shady. He only has one bottle of drops left, remember that."

"I will." Bile and Hazaar said together.

"Only half full—I have the normal drops on me too... but you know how "well" those work on me." Lazeer sighed. He went into his depressed mood for a few seconds before returning to being perky. "I'll be fine, don't worry mama. We'll be good and we'll have fun."

"You best." Angel said. She nodded at her friend then went to the door. "Lock the place up tight before you leave, all of you have the key?"

"In our pockets, and there's one above the exterior door frame." Bile said. "Along with another above the door frame in the back."

When she left the apartment, she heard the daily characteristic sounds of her sons racing to look out from the living room windows; this behavior of theirs was normal... it was nothing with which to show any concern over or to be annoyed with. Her sons, when they were well, and hadn't been given the hurried boot from the apartment at the same time that she left to go to work, always ganged up on the living room windows to watch her as she left to go to her destinations—most of the time, to work while, at other times, to the store or to some other location where a bill needed to be paid or where she and Casey had agreed to meet up at. They—her sons—claimed that they just wanted to be sure that she was safe while starting off to her destination; she knew better than to accept this claim of theirs—they watched her leave because they were close to her and because the starting signs of missing her were starting in on them. It'd take less than two to three minutes before they got over their mom's-gone depression and then shove off to go to where they were planning on going that day.

All of the advice that she had been given had been taken in stride; they always did the advice-giving thing before she left with Casey—they did this because they loved and cared for her.

After getting into the passenger side of her friend's car, then buckling herself in, she waved at her sons; her friend got in, then started the engine, then started backing the car out of the driveway. As strange as it sounded, she came very close to asking her friend to stop the car after they got to the end of the street that the apartment was on; for some strange reason, she had the urge to not be far from her sons... to have them close to her. That motherly instinct thing was very strong in her; she had noticed it after Bile had been born... it had never died down in her nor had it grown weaker after the births of her second, third, and then fourthborn sons occurred. As always, she swallowed the instinct—she told herself that it'd only be a couple of hours before she'd see them again and that nothing bad would happen between now and the time that she returned home.

Her sons had told her once that they'd always be with her... that it didn't matter if they matured into being adults or if she had any other children with any other man. They'd always be with her and they'd always live with her and they'd always love and cherish her—that was what they had said when the subject of the time when they became full grown adults came up. The idea of her having more babies—either with Atlas, or with another human male, or even after doing the artificial insemination thing again by going to the Sperm Ward on Gamma Vile to get a vial or two of Tazir's semen—had never been thought of by her. There was no Empty Nest syndrome going on with her; no thoughts of her being lonely, or wanting to make another baby or two to fill the void of her not having more children to watch grow up had been experienced by her. At the moment, she was very content with the four boys that she had. Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer had her heart and would always have her heart; while she was a protective mother, and had a good instinct to her on mothering, she never smothered her children with her protective instincts and they, in return, did the same. She, like any other good parent should, let them be to do their thing and they left her be so she could do hers.

With the apartment now a distance of a mile and a half from her, she leaned her forehead on the window; she felt a heaviness in her stomach that she didn't like.

"Just get-out-of-the-house jitters." she thought to herself. "It'll go away once our outing is officially started."

He, like his brothers, had gone to the window after she had left to go on her "adventure" with her friend; thoughts of _would she be coming back_ , _when will she be coming back_ , _she isn't leaving to make us fend for ourselves right_ , and, of course, the biggie of _will she be coming back as still being single or will one of her arms be wrapped around someone else's_ had been thought for all of a minute before the rational side of his brain had kicked in. Of course she was coming back, and she had plans to be back at around three that afternoon, and no, she wasn't abandoning them to fend for themselves and, no, she wasn't to return with a suitor. The depression from her leaving the roost, along with all of the questions that followed her exit from the apartment, was normal for him and his brothers; he, like his brothers, knew that these two things stemmed from how close they were to her and from how much they loved and cared for and about her.

The depression, and the question-doing, stopped right after he and his brothers shoved off from the window; they started making their rounds in either checking themselves to see if their things were on their persons or in going to collect the items that they either wanted to bring with them or that they needed to have on them during their time spent out of the apartment. While they made their rounds, they checked to see if the windows and doors of the apartment were closed and locked—to come home to see the place ransacked was not on any of their want-to-see lists.

Before everyone had woke up to get ready for the day, he had made some calls. Mr. Hemingway, the owner of Kale's World, had been called; the question of whether he could come in that morning for a quick, one hour dancing session had been asked and then answered—Mr. Hemingway had said that he could but that he'd not make much thanks to it being early morning and to what he'd have to take out for his time spent on the floor along with the other fees that he had to pay. With his having plans to dance in three clubs that morning, he had been more than fine with paying the fees and with having not much to bring home after everything was said and done with. His plan went something like this: he'd do an hour's worth of dancing at Kale's World, then collect his pay, then pay the fees that were required to be paid, then head off to Rails, which was a club in Kemmerer City, Lincoln County. Two hours of dancing would be done at Rails—according to the owner of the establishment, he'd make anywhere between $400 and $600; the fee for taking up the stage was $50, which, thanks to his spending time in dancing in three clubs that morning, he was okay with spending. He was sure that he'd bring home somewhere around $140 at Kale's World, with an additional $200 or so from Rails. The third club that he had plains to dance in that morning was in Powell City, Park County; a short fifteen or so minute break would be done between his dancing at Rails and his taking up the floor at the Naughty or Nice then he'd go on to making the big bucks that would assure Lazeer's goggled glass as being purchased. According to the owner of the Naughty or Nice, there was an open slot that someone could take up for two hours; he had plans to take that slot and he also had plans to make more than enough money to pay off the fees, then get the rest of the dough for Lazeer's goggled glass, then get extra for the family savings.

After the dancing at the three clubs was done and over with, he was to head to Converse County to hunt and then fish. After bagging a deer, or a moose, and then catching a few fish, he'd head home for a lengthy nap.

The outfit that he was to wear at all three clubs was all picked out and ready to be worn; he'd start dancing while wearing the typical clothes that a hunter would wear then he'd tear everything off. He'd become a mint-green version of Tarzan after his hunter's outfit was off of him—the chicks went nuts for his little Tarzan outfit, which consisted of just a loin cloth, which only just held him in. He was looking to collect anywhere between $600 and a thousand dollars from the Powell City club—that, coupled with what he'd make from the other two clubs, would assure Lazeer's goggled glass as being bought.

With the thought of his little brother getting his glass, and then going back to being normal, tucked firmly under his cap, he picked his tote bag up, shook his shoulders, wished his brothers good luck in what they had plans to do that day, then shoved off. Act One of the day was about to start for him and he was just as ready for it as he was ever going to be.

"And I'm left with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." Bile said after his brother left the apartment. Once the door was shut, then Lhaklar was on his way to Dancers Bliss Money Toss World, he turned to look at his two, younger brothers. "Alright you knit-wits! Grab whatever you're taking then let's get."

"Should we make up anything to eat?" Lazeer asked. "Sandwiches or something?"

"I have thirty dollars on me—if we get hungry, we can get one of them dollar to two-dollar meals from one of them small restaurants in Lincoln." Hazaar said. "Or we could get a little something from Kentucky Fried Chicken."

"I made that restaurant go bust earlier this week, didn't you hear?" Lazeer elbowed Bile in the ribs. "Took everything that they had—I left nothing for the mice or birds."

"You're full of shit, Lazeer." Bile said. "Well, if you two want some homemade sandwiches you best make them now. If not, grab your things and lets go. It's eight in the morning—we're burning morning light."

"I have a hundred dollars on me so, if we get hungry enough, we can always stop at a decent restaurant to get a bite to eat." Lazeer announced. His brothers gave him a shocked look.

"Dude! _How_ the hell did you _come_ by _that_ much dough?" Bile demanded.

"I robbed a bank earlier this week, remember?" Lazeer said. Bile responded by folding his arms and then giving him that serious look; when he tried to walk by him, he pushed him back. He did this twice before grabbing and then forcing him to the couch; seeing as his brother was being so serious in the matter, he decided to tell him the truth on why he was so loaded with dough. "I've... not been using my allowance much lately."

"No need for us to worry about making sandwiches then—our rich Baby Brother can pay our way for lunch." Hazaar said.

"The hell I will!" Lazeer exclaimed. "Pay your own way, I'm buying something for mom with most of my monopoly money."

"I've got fifty on me," Bile said as he led the way out of the apartment. "That's enough for a meal, gas for the car, and to buy something for ma as well."

"And exactly why are you going to buy gas when you're full of noxious fumes?" Lazeer asked. "You can keep the car running by simply pointing your ass at the gas tank."

"Very funny, Lazeer." Bile said. He gave the sky a long look; he had a feeling that he'd be hearing his brother's jokes for the entire duration of the drive to Lincoln. After reaching the car, he reached into his pants pocket for the key. "Alright, everyone inside. I'm driving."

"I hope someone warned the DMV and the police and the department of transportation that you're driving." Hazaar said. "You drive like a freakin' maniac!"

"Thank you, I try." Bile said as he ducked into the car. Hazaar saw that his brother had a large bag with him; he didn't need to ask about what the bag's contents were. Bile, when he was behind the wheel, liked to listen to music; his music was a lot of the reason behind his maniac driving—he practically drove with the gas pedal to the floorboard. He cranked it up loud... so loud that anything that his tag-along passengers said would be lost or not heard.

"Got your drops, Lazeer?" Bile asked after his youngest brother slid into the passenger seat beside him.

"What's left of them, yeah." Lazeer replied. "Also got the bottle of Visine Tears on me."

"The tunnel's dark, so you won't have to worry about ducking under the seat for a while." Bile said as he pushed the key into the ignition; their mother's car, as always, started up smoothly. "It'll be a little under an hour and a half ride between here and Lincoln so you two best buckle up, shut up, and listen to the music—it ain't goin' off 'til we're out of the tunnel."

"Thanks for the warning," Hazaar said as he slid into the back seat. "My ear lawyer will be paying you a visit tonight."

"You're mean... I'm tellin' mom that you was mean to us." Lazeer faked a cry before checking his pocket for his communicator. "Both of you lunatics have your communicators on you, right?"

"On my belt," Bile replied as he backed the car out of the driveway.

"Yeah, in my pants pocket." Hazaar said.

"Guess we're all ready then," Lazeer said. "Take us to Lincoln County you maniac."


	34. Chapter 34

While his wife was on her way to Fremont County with her friend, and while his adopted son, with his two, younger, biological sons in-tote, was driving down the street that his and his family's lived-in apartment was on, and while his oldest biological son was walking through the back door of an establishment called Kale's World, he was looking through the file cabinets that were oddly placed in the store where his wife worked at. Kalach had been the one tasked with the chore over the last few weeks to case the Food Lion on Brooks Boulevard and it had been he who had told him that his wife, for the last four weeks, hadn't been coming in for work—with his being so busy over the last month in going from one school in the Universe to another, and in searching through their archives, and coming up with nothing in the process, he hadn't been spending all that much time in camp; Kalach had only just told him of his wife's tardiness that morning. While he didn't know his wife's working record, or the time when she punched in, he had a feeling that she wasn't one who didn't show up for work; instead of lazing around camp, or going to another educational facility to check into their records archives for probable records of his sons, he had decided to infiltrate the shield and then sneak into the store that his wife was said to be an employee at.

He had neither stopped after being let into the shield nor had he conversed with any of the humans who had been walking around; a few of the out and about humans had taken notice of him and had about screamed themselves hoarse—while he had noticed their antics he had neither gone to silence them nor given the order for his three, handpicked staff member tag-alongs to give chance, subdue, and then wipe their memory banks clean of ever seeing him. He had simply gone towards the Food Lion; a simple toss of his hand had been done after he and his staff members had reached the establishment's back door—which had been found to be locked, as he had expected to find it as being—then they had gone in without saying so much as a word to one another. He had started searching the building's back for clues as to where his wife was, or on what she was up to, and, most importantly, for any and all information on her that may or may not be in the store.

With the store looking to be open, and accepting customers, he hadn't had a desire to go through the stationed front doors; having humans screaming, and then running away after seeing him walking through their town, was enough, he didn't need to have humans inside an establishment doing the same thing and he didn't need the local authorities coming down to see what was up and then drawing their weapons after noticing that the placed calls on there being a non-human creature walking about a human owned and used grocery store were legit neither.

The order for the Gzujus twins—Ulok and Olok—to check the rooms on the hallway's left side had been given; he had only just gotten through checking a freezer full of frozen meats, and other freezer-appropriate foods, and then had just gotten started in searching a room that was full of nothing but packaged goods when one of the two "whistled". He, and one of them, were in the fourth room that was on the hall that branched off the one that ran into the store; there were all sorts of broken handcarts, baskets, half-open boxes of either rotting or rotten produce, and file cabinets in this room—the smell that was wafting around in the room was enough to make him want to leave... it was a very odd room for a bunch of file cabinets to be in and, furthermore, it was very odd for him to be in it.

Losal and Olok were keeping guard; they were standing with their wands at-the-ready should anyone decide to mosey on down the hall or decide to come into the room. At the moment, all they had heard was a bunch of humans talking, cart wheels twisting and turning, and shoes clinking and clanging on the store's linoleum floor.

"Ugh!" he groaned after opening the fourth of the room's nine file cabinets. Along with finding an apple core, and a few pieces of pizza crust, he also found plenty of spider webs. The legs and wings of long-dead insects, who had been a meal for the presently hiding spiders, were still dangling from the webs. He slid the cabinet door shut then opened the one that was below it; along with finding some pieces of paper, that were yellowing at the edges, and that looked to be quite greasy, he also found a mouse trap that had a long-dead mouse on it. He was more than glad to be wearing a pair of latex gloves—to get a disease, or a parasite, from this filthy environment need not happen!

He was moving on to the fifth file cabinet when the sound of a cart being pushed along close-by was heard; he, along with Ulok, stood stock still. The one pushing the cart was humming a tune that had no meaning to it, and he—if it was a male, that was—seemed to have a limp of some sort; he and Ulok only relaxed after Losal and Olok said that the "Meat Man" had gone into the freezer with an empty cart—apparently the meat section of the store was empty and was in need of being restocked and, apparently, the human appointed to doing the chore in restocking this portion of the store was doing his job.

"Psst, Master Tazir." he heard a few seconds after the "Meat Man" went into the freezer. When he turned, he saw that Ulok, a blue-skinned Goblin, who had warts on his cheeks, a straight nose, and large, brown eyes, was gesturing for him to come to him. He went to this man, who was wearing a black tuxedo, and who was four foot, four in height, quickly.

"What is it, Ulok?" he asked after reaching the Goblin's side.

"Found this in the blue cabinet that's in the room's far left corner." Ulok said. He gave him four pieces of paper then stepped back; these four pieces of paper had been stapled together and looked to be in better than fine shape. When he gave them a closer look, he noticed that they were resumé forms... and not just any type of resumé forms either. They were his own wife's. He went to work in looking through their contents at once.

Name: Irene, Angel... DOB: May 15, 1758... Age: 2438... Gender: Female

Work:

Max's Shoes  
Day/Month/Year Hired: June 12, 2712  
Location: Okarche, Kingfisher County, Oklahoma  
Employer: David Charleston  
Position: Salesperson  
Pay: $4.40/hr  
On Time Percentage: 90%  
Day of Departure: January 3, 2713  
Reason for Leaving: She decided to move herself and her family to the north

Employer Quote: Other than having to call in sick on certain days to take care of her children she was a very good employee. Nothing bad can be said of her.

Krispy Kreme Donuts  
Day/Month/Year Hired: January 1, 2752  
Location: Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada  
Employer: Alice Shaffer  
Position: Register  
Pay: $5.40/hr  
On Time Percentage: 80%  
Day of Departure: March 14, 2765

Reason for Leaving: A decision to move herself and her family was made, which caused her to quit her position.

Employer Quote: Employee was very nice; issues with her children were frequently experienced, which caused her to not come in on certain days. Very patient, understanding, hard-working, and very down to Earth.

Garneau Theatre II  
Day/Month/Year Hired: June 12, 2765  
Location: Calgary, Alberta, Canada  
Employer: Jerry Macklin  
Position: Concession; works the candy and popcorn bar  
Pay: $$8.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 75%  
Day of Departure: November 12, 2770  
Reason for Leaving: Quit; had issues with manager and co-workers

Employer Quote: Employee worked professionally but had many fights with her co-workers over her sons, who were frequent visitors of the theatre. Claims were made over her sons stealing, and that she was letting them see certain movies for free. A fight was encountered with the employer soon after the accusations were made; she quit right after talking to her employer.

Lady's Boutique  
Day/Month/Year Hired: March 1, 2978  
Location: Oshawa, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Sandy Wilkins  
Position: Salesperson  
Pay: $6.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 80%  
Day of Departure: June 2, 2981  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the small-budget film, Water Works

Employer Quote: Employee is very professional, but she tends to not come in because of her children and their needs. She nearly got fired twice due to choosing her children over work.

Water Works  
Day/Month/Year Hired: June 1, 2981  
Employer: Carolyn McConnell, director/producer  
Co-Employer: Gary McConnell, writer  
Position: Special Efforts  
Pay: $25,000 (employee set salary herself; claim of it going towards one of her sons' educations was made)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: July 12, 2981  
Reason for Leaving: Natural disaster occurred; the film was never completed due to the break-up of the two employers and to their decision in not wanting to continue in making the film.

Employer Quote: Very fine employee who wears her heart and her mind on her sleeve; if the film had been completed, it would have made for one fine picture. Nothing bad of her can be said.

Lady's Boutique  
Day/Month/Year Hired: July 16, 2981  
Location: Oshawa, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Sandy Wilkins  
Position: Salesperson  
Pay: $6.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 89%  
Day of Departure: June 2, 3003  
Reason for Leaving: Plague set in; after being rehired, employee didn't come in after two, back-to-back natural disasters occurred. Store closed after the second natural disaster occurred.

Employer Quote: Very helpful employee who tries her best at everything that she does.

Rocheleau's YIG Hearst  
Day/Month/Year Hired: August 8, 3061  
Location: Hearst, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Lesley Reid  
Position: Register  
Pay: $7.00/hr  
On Time Percentage: 95%  
Day of Departure: October 2, 3077  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the small-budget film, Tornado Rampage

Employer Quote: Very hard-working individual who tries her best to help in any way that she can.

Tornado Rampage (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: October 1, 3077  
Location: Kansas City, Kansas, USA  
Employer: Larry M. Altman, director/writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $20,000 (employee set salary herself; claim of it going towards one of her sons' educations was made)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: December 4, 3077  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: Despite the project being a small-budget film, it was a big success for local communities of middle and lower Kansas who were devastated by the June 5, 3075 tornado outbreak. She was a most excellent employee; did better than spectacular things with her powers, which did more than make the special effects look real. She was very patient, hard-working, and understanding towards the ones around her.

Rocheleau's YIG Hearst  
Day/Month/Year Hired: December 5, 3077  
Location: Hearst, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Lesley Reid  
Position: Register  
Pay: $7.00/hr  
On Time Percentage: 91%  
Day of Departure: March 22, 3082  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the small-budget film, Tsunami!

Employer Quote: Despite having her name accredited to a film, she's still very hard-working and helpful. One of the best employees in the establishment.

Tsunami! (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: March 21, 3082  
Location: Kanagawa, Japan  
Employer: Sen Hamasaki, director  
Co-Employer: Masato Kusanagi, writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $20,000 (employee set salary herself; claim of it going towards one of her sons' educations was made)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: May 22, 3082  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: While the sets were small, and certain spaces were cramped due to equipment and on-hand crew members, she was a big help in getting this small project done for Tokusatsu and Toho. It was a small success for certain areas that weren't impacted by the flood of December 27, 3063 while, in areas where wide-spread damage and devastation were encountered, it was a big success. She was a better than excellent employee; not only very helpful in using her powers to make the film more agreeable to audiences but also helped ones who were struggling to keep up the pace.

Rocheleau's YIG Hearst  
Day/Month/Year Hired: May 23, 3082  
Location: Hearst, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Tammy Boyd  
Position: Register/Deli  
Pay: $8.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 89%  
Day of Departure: March 31, 3085  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the small-budget film, HMCS Genesis IV

Employer Quote: The longest-kept employee who is also the most hard-working, patient, and understanding of the ones who work the store. If anyone needs assistance with something, she's the first to run up to help in what is needed to be done.

HMCS Genesis IV (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: April 1, 3085  
Location: St. Paul Island, Nova Scotia, Canada  
Employer: J. Massey Rhind, director/writer  
Co-Employer: Beverely Trudeau, producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $15,000 (employee set salary herself; claim of it going towards one of her sons' educations was made)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: June 1, 2085  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: A very small-range project that gained more than what was expected in revenue and viewer acclaim. She was very set on capturing the whole detail of how the actual HMCS Genesis IV went down after a weather system that produced more than enough mega-waterspouts was encountered on May 4, 3082; the use of her powers to make the film more believable to the ones who viewed it was very top-notch, as was her kindness and understanding towards others. An overall grand employee with a good insight on how the world around her works.

Rocheleau's YIG Hearst  
Day/Month/Year Hired: June 2, 3085  
Location: Hearst, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Tammy Boyd  
Position: Register/Deli  
Pay: $8.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 95%  
Day of Departure: October 3, 3097  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the large-budget film, Water Works

Employer Quote: Very reliable and trustworthy; best employee one could hire.

Water Works (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: October 2, 3097  
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA  
Employer: Horace Sloccum, director/writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $100,000 (employee set salary herself; claim of it going towards two of her sons' educations was made)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: December 30, 3097  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: An overall great employee who knows well how to act around others and how the world around her works. The things that she did with her powers [to make the film's special effects more believable] were jaw-dropping. Other than being very patient and understanding, she was also very responsible and helpful towards the ones who needed assistance in areas where assistance was either needed or not needed. If not for her insistance on this project being completed, this previously forgotten picture would not of had a chance to be seen by the masses.

Rocheleau's YIG Hearst  
Day/Month/Year Hired: December 31, 3097  
Location: Hearst, Ontario, Canada  
Employer: Cindy Moore  
Position: Deli manager  
Pay: $10.00/hr  
On Time Percentage: 98%  
Day of Departure: June 30, 3101  
Reason for Leaving: The decision to move herself and her family was made and then done; she quit the day that the move took place on.

Employer Quote: Though an effort was made to keep her on the job she decided, for the better of her family, to move to a different location; whoever is to get her as an employee next is to have one of the better working people known on the planet working for them; very honest, helpful, patient, and understanding.

Exxon Mega Energy Station  
Day/Month/Year Hired: August 2, 3101  
Location: Milk River, Alberta, Canada  
Employer: Dennis Kendig  
Position: Register  
Pay: $5.25/hr  
On Time Percentage: 83%  
Day of Departure: November 24, 3197  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the large-budget film, Shake

Employer Quote: Very outstanding employee; does the best she can to keep peace and is very intelligent. Top notch employee.

Shake (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: November 23, 3197  
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA  
Employer: Victor Crumb, director  
Co-Employer: Benjamin Morrison, producer/writer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $150,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for two of her sons' educations, for savings, and for repairs needed on her apartment)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: February 3, 3198  
Reason for leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: While wasn't sure of her at first she was a most excellent employee and it was a pleasure to work with her. The things that she did for the film's special effects were mind-boggling; if not for her use of her powers on the sets, the film wouldn't of been able to stand up to its heavy expectations. Understanding, kind and patient, and very polite.

Milk River Health Centre  
Day/Month/Year Hired: April 2, 3198  
Location: Milk River, Alberta, Canada  
Employer: Carey Patterson  
Position: Janitor  
Pay: $4.25/hr  
On Time Percentage: 70%  
Day of Departure: November 24, 3290  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the small-budget film, Blackness

Employer Quote: Though not able to come in on certain occasions because of her two, home-present sons, she's a very understanding, hard-working, down to Earth, and patient employee who puts her heart into everything. Despite not having an education in medicine she did assist in matters where doctors/nurses were either short on-hand or weren't around to give aid to the patient.

Blackness (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: November 23, 3290  
Location: Tamaulipas, Mexico  
Employer: Kimble Washington; director  
Co-Employer: Jorge Garcia; writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $32,100 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the upcoming education of one of her children and for her savings)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: March 12, 3291  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: If not for her we would not of been able to get this film, which had been in development-hell for over ten years, off the ground. Along with being extremely patient and understanding she was also very helpful during the times where the sets had to be completely turned down of all power. This small-budget film, which hadn't been expected to make much in revenue, made twice what was expected and got better than exceptional reviews. We thank her for her assistance, cooperation, and for all that she did in helping us along the way.

Volcano Eruption (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: March 20, 3291  
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA  
Employer: Kenneth Copeland, director/producer  
Co-Employer: William Harrison, writer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $150,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of one of her children, for repairs needed to be done on her apartment, and for her savings)  
On Time Percentage: 95%  
Day of Departure: June 30, 3291  
Reason for leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quotes: While she was a most excellent employee there were issues where she wasn't able to appear on the set as much as we had hoped she would; with her prior movie credits, we were expecting for her to be more on-call. Her powers aided the film greatly; along with the big-name actors and actresses and the huge marketing and promoting of the film it was the use of her powers that really helped in making the film a smashing success.

Erle Rivers High School  
Day/Month/Year Hired: September 1, 3391  
Location: Milk River, Alberta, Canada  
Employer: Agatha Fischer  
Position: Cafeteria  
Pay: $4.25/hr  
On Time Percentage: 60%  
Day of Departure: February 7, 3482  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of the medium-budget film, See The Sea

Employer Quote: Though the oldest on record to be employed at our establishment, and though being very intelligent, we weren't able to gain her as a teacher due to her not having a teacher's license or the education to be a teacher; we employed her to work in the cafeteria instead, which proved to be a very good idea as she did very well in this position. Her percentage on not being able to come in to work is based off her having to remain at home to tend to her two, home-present sons; she's a very understanding, helpful, and hard-working individual who tries her best at everything that she's been appointed to do.

Sea The See (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: February 6, 3482  
Location: Strahan, Tasmania, Australia  
Employer: David Walsh, writer/producer  
Co-Employer: Patricia King, director  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $50,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of one of her sons)  
On Time Percentage: 99%  
Day of Departure: May 29, 3482  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: While it was a hassle, due to weather, and the war, the film was completed and it gained a very surprising amount of revenue. Except for the few times where she was called away to deal with issues that were going on at home, she was there from start to finish; the use of her powers caused a medium-budget film to have that high-budget feel and it also caused for the critics to not be but so harsh. An overall great employee; the opportunity to work with her was great, hoping to do business with her again in the future.

Saralee Foods  
Day/Month/Year Hired: February 18, 3482  
Location: Carman, Manitoba, Canada  
Employer: Chelsae R. Taaffe  
Position: Deli  
Pay: $5.70/hr  
On Time Percentage: 89%  
Day of Departure: April 6, 3603  
Reason for Leaving: To assist in the making of three films; Ke-rash! [a small to medium-budget film] and The Thunderstorm War 1 and 2 [two modestly budgeted films]

Employer Quote: With the exception of her not coming in because of her kids, and their needs, she was a very fine employee to have. Always willing to lend a hand when someone needs help and always around for one to talk to.

Ke-Rash! (Movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: April 5, 3603  
Location: Shizuoka, Japan  
Employer: Shinji Higuchi, writer/director  
Co-Employer: Mao Kato, producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $35,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of one of her sons)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: July 14, 3603  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: A most outstanding employee with a good head on her shoulders and with a good understanding towards how things happen in the movie business. The things that she did with her powers to make the film more enjoyable to the audiences were incredible; the capture of fictional Japan crashing into Eurasia was very spot-on thanks to her. Tokusatsu Corp. was very happy to see that this film, which had been in development-hell for 20 years, was finally being done and was more than happy to see that she had been approached to do its special effects; her efforts made this small to medium-budget film look almost like it had a much larger budget and it also brought in more revenue than was expected.

The Thunderstorm War Part 1 (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: August 12, 3603  
Location: Cornwall, England  
Employer: Anne Barber, director  
Co-Employer: Benjamin R. Beckett, writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects/Historian  
Pay: $45,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of one of her sons, for repairs that were needed for her apartment, and for the upcoming costs of her young ward's education, and for her savings)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: November 24, 3603  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: If not for her we would not of been able to get this project, or its sequel, up from the ground. This project was in the working stages for nearly fifty years before it was finally decided to approach her on seeing if she'd help in getting it going; the decision was a better than fine one because she not only helped in creating the film's special effects but also helped in correcting the timeline of the script so that it'd match the history that it was based on. An overall great employee who's just as smart as she is kind and understanding. Looking forward to doing business with her again.

The Thunderstorm War Part 2 (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: April 17, 3605  
Location: Dorset, England  
Employer: Anne Barber, director  
Co-Employer: Benjamin R. Beckett, writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects/Historian  
Pay: $50,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of her young ward and for her youngest son)  
On Time Percentage: 100%  
Day of Departure: August 4, 3605  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: With the first movie being such a success, we were given a little bigger budget to ensure the sequel being as good as its predecessor. Though it was hassle, because of the very rainy weather that was experienced during the film's shooting, we pulled off a better than expected movie; Ms. Irene's powers did as they had with the first movie in making the weather experienced in the fictional war look real. Looking forward to doing business with her again; top notch employee and top notch experience in having her on-board two, back-to-back films.

Schwan's Ice Cream  
Day/Month/Year Hired: March 12, 3656  
Location: Carman, Manitoba, Canada  
Employer: George K. Hickman  
Position: Register  
Pay: $5.00/her  
On Time Percentage: 80%  
Day of Departure: December 16, 3756  
Reason for Leaving: Issues with employer encountered and to assist in the making of two films

Employer Quote: Very kind and helpful towards the ones that she either likes or gets along with; with her having gone through multiple managers during her tenure here, it was a surprise to see that she'd not get along with the new manager [Peter Rutherford].

Chaotic Seas (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: December 15, 3756  
Location: North Andros Island, The Bahamas  
Employer: Russel Creech, director  
Co-Employer: Keith Fawcett, writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $75,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of her youngest son)  
On Time Percentage: 95%  
Day of Departure: March 23, 3757  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: Due to issues that were constantly encountered at home, she wasn't able to be on-set as much as we had hoped she would; despite this, we enjoyed having her on board for this project and are glad to of approached her. If not for the use of her powers we wouldn't of been able to make this disaster film reality; very good employee with a good head on her shoulders.

The Year Of The Hurricane (movie)  
Day/Month/Year Hired: May 12, 3757  
Location: Havanna, Cuba  
Employer: Russel Creech, director/writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $45,000 (employee sat salary herself; claimed that it was for the mass amount of dept that she owned for her young ward's education)  
On Time Percentage: 92%  
Day of Departure: August 4, 3757  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: The first time as having her working alongside me was good enough to ask for her assistance in another project that had been in development-hell for nearly 80 years; the second time was not the charm. Not only was she unavailable during certain periods where she, and her powers, were needed but she was also a bit mouthy and tempered with me and several of the actors/actresses that were in the picture. It seems that the movie business may be growing a bit stale for her.

Raymer's Meat Market & Groc.  
Day/Month/Year Hired: March 30, 3760  
Location: Carman, Manitoba, Canada  
Employer: Winston MacDonald  
Position: Deli  
Pay: $6.50/hr  
On Time Percentage: 85%  
Day of Departure: June 4, 3779  
Reason for Leaving: The decision to move herself, and her single, home-present child, was made

Employer Quote: A most excellent employee who does her best at just about everything that she does.

Helen Erupts (movie)  
Month/Day/Year Hired: August 8, 4084  
Location: Los Angeles, California, USA  
Employer: William Jennings, director/writer/producer  
Position: Special Effects  
Pay: $300,000 (employee set salary herself; claimed that it was for the education of three of her sons, for the substantial debt that she had accumulated, for housing costs, and for the repairs on a vehicle)  
On Time Percentage: 88%  
Day of Departure: December 23, 4084  
Reason for Leaving: Film was completed

Employer Quote: Despite not being available to be on-set for most of the film shooting she was an excellent employee who did her best to ensure that the effects for this large-budgeted film weren't corny. The only problem encountered with her was her temper, and with the fact that her loyalties are no longer fully tied into movie-making. Perhaps, after 75 films to her credit, she needs a lengthy break from the industry?

Food Lion  
Month/Day/Year Hired: July 17, 4084  
Location: Green River, Wyoming  
Employer: Jacques Robertson  
Position: Register  
Pay: $6.00/hr  
Day of Departure:  
Reason for Leaving:

Employer Quote:

There were several mentions of her being involved in other films—these were either very low-budget films, or films that hadn't done as well as the ones behind them had thought they would, or that had been complete failures—and there were several other locations where she had worked at as well—the reason behind her departure was given as either a natural disaster, her decision on moving the family to a different location, her being fired because she chose the kids over coming in for work, and, of course, the plagues that had been going on. With his wife having to look after three children, and then that Reezal boy, and with her also be a single parent, she would of been required to be at home more often than one who had a lived-in partner or who had some help in the child-raising.

He was marvelously impressed with how she had come upon the cash for the kids' educations; his wife had been very wise in deciding to become involved in making movies and she had also been very wise in setting her own salary—tuition at any of the known schools in the Universe was not cheap; most of the time, it cost one $100,000 for just their child to be enrolled in the institution. Dormitory fees, the fees that came around from simply having your child be fed at the school, classroom fees, enrollment fees in school-runs activities, and school insurance was usually $30,000-$45,000—he had come close to throwing $200,000 when Eshal went to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic; another $125,000 had been thrown when she had gone to the University of Telepathy... Education didn't come cheap but it was a very important thing to have and he had been all too willing to throw any amount of money towards his daughter; if his sons, and that Reezal boy, had been living under his roof at the time of their education-doing, he would of done the same for them in ensuring that all of their normal-run educational costs were paid along with any of the fees that came up in their living arrangements or classes.

He checked the address that was on the resumé before folding it and then sliding it into the inside pocket of his burgundy tuxedo jacket; there was no way that he was going to leave the resumé there—later on, after getting back to camp, and then getting situated, he'd file it. It was better than good proof on what his wife had been doing over the years that she had been disappeared.

"Anything else of interest in that cabinet, Mr. Gzujus?" he asked after placing the resumé on his person.

"No sir," Ulok was fast in responding.

"Olok, Losal," he said as he went back to looking through the file cabinets. The two Goblins were fast in entering the room.

"Sir," Olok said. Except for having a crooked nose, he looked very identical to his twin brother.

"Yes?" Losal said as he placed his wand away.

"Assist me in shortening our time here—search the cabinets." he said. This was no more said before he turned to look at the two men who had just received an order. "Take my suggestion in keeping them gloves on your hands, Boys. This place is filthy and, I'm betting, germ and parasite infested. Better play it safe than sorry—your gloves can always be cleaned."

He and his twin watched as their employer went back to looking through the room's many cabinets; Losal was fast in doing as he had been told while they dawdled a little before starting in on what they had been told to do.

Their loyalty towards TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit went a long ways; without the man, they would probably not be as close as they were and, without him, they would probably not of found one another. He and Olok were orphans; their mother had been in labor with them for nearly two days before the decision to cut her stomach and then extract them was made and then done. Their mother had passed away shortly after their birth; with their father being in jail, and with their family not wanting to take on the chore of raising them, they had been put in an orphanage. The two of them had been raised together for twenty years before a couple, who had been looking to adopt a single baby boy, had come in. Though policy at the orphanage had been to keep siblings together it had been decided that the two of them had to be separated for the adoption to take place; Olok had gone with the family while he had remained in the orphanage. It had taken thirty years before someone had come in to adopt him—it had been a same-sex couple who had taken him on to raise as their own.

The two men who had adopted him had been nice, as had their various family members; during his growing-up years, he had only asked what a mother was once—the more feminine of the two men who had taken him on had taken to the liberty of answering that question, and of explaining what all went on between mothers and their offspring, before going on to explaining the birds and the bees of a couple that wasn't gay. Not once had he been shouted at, or disciplined, or shunned for asking questions on any of the sexual orientations and not once had one of his questions pertaining to how one of the straight orientation lived or went by ways in a relationship been unanswered. He had gotten no flack for being raised by a same-sex couple; there had been no _oh you was raised by queers_ , _you're going to be forced to be a queer_ , or _which one acts as your mother and which one acts as your father_ , with him during his growing-up years. He had been treated nicely, and respectfully, during his childhood years; the same went with his teenage years. Just about everything had been available for him to experience during the years when he had been a child and then teenager—though he had gotten a normal education on Moas he had also been sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic after reaching the appropriate age to go there. The usual two hundred years had been spent at the school then an additional twenty had been added after he had made the decision to stay at the school to learn a few more spells, potions, and languages. A fifty year period of his remaining at home had been done before he had been sent to Staffer's Academy—a full three hundred years had been spent at this school; along with getting better than fine marks on his rank cards, and being involved in several clubs, and being involved in the school's mechanics and literary courses, he had also attended the courses that were reserved for people who had an interest in wanting to drive trucks that had trailers hooked up to them.

He had no more graduated from Staffer's Academy before the thought of who he was, and of who he had started out as being, had come to him. He had gone by the name of Ulok Aeyuzuun for a little over sixteen hundred years... he had never been told what his real surname was, or even who his real parents were, or where he had come from. He had wondered this for nearly two thousand years before the decision to go into the area where his father kept all of his documents in was; he, at thirty-six hundred years of age, had no more started searching that area before coming upon a manilla envelope that contained all of the information that he had been looking for.

Original Name: Ulok Gzujus  
Adoption Number: 2309-0991-98883  
Age: 50 years old  
Siblings: Olok Gzujus (twin)  
Mother: Simija Vulomong  
Father: Edurot Gzujus  
Reason For Adoption: Mother passed away after the birth of her twins; father is in jail. Birth-family won't accept him, or his brother, because of family issues.

A copy of the forms, that had been found in the envelope, had been made then the originals had been returned to where he had found them; after a few hundred years of normal living, he had started the process of looking up information on the Gzujus family—what he had found had been shocking; apparently, the family had gone down in society thanks to something that his father's brother had done. Shilfog Gzujus, who had no more been hired to work the grounds of his new employer's residence, had been found in bed with his employer's wife—a Meelobe Nalass. Mr. Nalass had been furious enough to kill the man, but he had managed to restrain himself—Shilfog had been given a furious cuffing on the wrist and back before being fired and then sent on his way; as a way to add insult to injury, Goblin society had shunned him and his family for his deeds with Mrs. Nalass and, as a further insult, Mrs. Nalass had caught for him. An abortion had taken care of Mrs. Nalass's and his uncle's child but that hadn't been able to help the Gzujus family any—his birth-family had gone down to near poverty thanks to his uncle's actions with Meelobe Nalass.

His father had done all that he could to provide for his wife, who had just caught pregnant at the time of the Meelobe Nalass incident; the man had gone through being hired and then fired from around sixty or so jobs before desperation had sunk in—as a way to have funds available for his wife, and unborn children, he had decided to try to rob an armored car. The car that he had picked to rob had just come from a bank, it had been carrying somewhere around fifty to a hundred grand in it; while he had managed to get into the truck he hadn't been able to make off with it. The driver had caught him; a fight had happened then his father had run off—of the money that had been in the truck, he had managed to make off with around twenty grand of it. After the robbery took place, his father had grabbed his wife; the two had done the run and then hide routine from the law for about a month and a half before being caught—the man, who had tried his best under the circumstances to provide for his wife, who had been seven and a half months pregnant at the time, had gone on trial, then had been convicted, and then sentenced to life in jail for his crime. Due to the given stress that she had been going through at the time, his mother had gone into an early labor almost immediately after her husband was put behind bars; it had taken his father a hundred years before the discovery of what happened to his wife was made. Instead of coming to his losses—his wife having died after giving birth, and their twin sons being put in an orphanage and then adopted out separately—he had taken the sheet from his bed and then hung himself with it.

With the knowledge of where he had come from, what his family name was, and that he had a brother, in place, he had gone to the orphanage where his adoption had taken place in; he had started looking for his brother right after learning his roots. Along with learning what had happened to cause him and his brother to be separated he had also learned that Olok's adopted family were a rather shut-off family who didn't like strangers; Olok had been adopted by the Serirsepp's, a rather well-to-do family who preferred to live on the lamb instead of picking one location to live at.

His search for his brother had taken up a lot of years; most of his early adult years had been "wasted" by this search of his and, as it had just so happened, his adoption family had been totally against his looking for his other half. The one who had acted as the father figure of the two who had adopted him had been on his back constantly about his needing to stop his search and then start making a life for himself while the one who had been more on the feminine side of his two parental units had been throwing all them curve balls on how he was breaking his heart by continuing the search for Olok. His "stubbornness", as his father had called it, had earned him the privilege of being disowned on his four thousandth birthday; he no longer heard from any of the people who he had grown up with knowing or loving as a family source thanks to "the book" being thrown at him.

Though it had taken a while, he had found his brother; four thousand years after being disowned, and four thousand years of not taking on a lengthy job, had come to a stop after a friend of his had told him that a man by the name of TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit had an Olok in his service. He, who could barely contain his excitement over this development, had gone right over to the man's residence to speak to him and to, of course, see his brother. As it had turned out, he had been "denied" the privilege of doing both—Mr. Surfeit had been away, conquering a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy; the "denial" of seeing Olok for the first time had been decided by him. Instead of just going into the house, then asking to see Olok, he had made the decision to wait until Olok's employer returned home. A year and a half after finding where his possible brother was he had returned to the residence; the same maid had answered the door after he had knocked on it, then had told him that Mr. Surfeit was at home, then had led him up to the man's office. A combination of excitement and nervousness had caused him to barely be able to speak to the man after hearing that he was "open" to both seeing and speaking with him.

"Mr. Surfeit," he recalled saying after finally breaking past the two barriers that had been keeping him from speaking. "My name's Ulok Aeyuzuun."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Aeyuzuun." TazirVile Surfeit had said. "What is it that calls you to my house?"

"I apologize if I burden you, or cause any misgivings in you, but I've been looking for my brother for a right long time now." he recalled saying; the nervousness had tried to creep back in at that time. After swallowing he had gone on to giving the full explanation as to why he was there. "I was told by a friend of mine that he may be here—he and I were separated; we were orphans, in an orphanage, and we were separated and then adopted out to different families."

"He have a name? Does he work for me?" Mr. Surfeit had asked.

"Olok—from what I've heard, he might."

"You may be in luck—I do have one with that name working for me," Mr. Surfeit had called for a maid after saying this; after a maid arrived in his office, he had said, "Tell Mr. Serirsepp that I wish to see him."

Though he and the man had spoken a few times, and though the man had been pleasant towards him, he had figured that he'd force him into making the first-time encounter with his brother be a pitifully short one; instead of doing this, Mr. Surfeit had gotten up and then relinquished the room to him and his brother after his brother walked in. He had come close to collapsing after seeing Olok—except for the crooked nose, he was his exact same image; the body was lean and strong, and he had stood at four foot, four inches.

Though thoroughly excited over finally seeing him he had also felt awkward; here he was, wearing rags—paint-smudged jeans, that had holes in the legs, and a red t-shirt that had more than enough grease stains in it to give one the impression that he was a slob, and shoes that's soles were about worn down to the bottom of his feet—, and there was his brother, wearing a nice, crisp, clean black tuxedo. Olok had walked up to him, had looked him up and down a few times, then had walked around him once before stopping—nothing between them was said for up to a minute before the hug was given. Olok had just grabbed and then heaved him up. Had he been taken aback by the given gesture? You bet your fine, damn, bottom-dollar that he had been! He had expected for his brother to just walk up and then say who are you... instead, his brother had hugged him.

"I was wondering if I'd ever see the likes of my own living mirror." his brother had said. "What name did they give you after you was adopted? Is it still Ulok?"

"They kept it as it was—was given the surname of Aeyuzuun though." he recalled replying.

"Think I prefer Gzujus," Olok had said before giving him a small smile. "Make up a date for us to get together for some history sharing. I'm a bit busy at the moment but I'm clear after nine."

"At night?" he had asked stupidly.

"Yeah—Master Tazir closes up shop at nine."

"Alright, how about Baiken's in the closest town to here?"

"Sure, I'm up for Italian." his brother had said.

During that meal, he had exposed his history; Olok's history was similar to his in some areas. His brother had started looking for him right after being employed to work for Mr. Surfeit and, get this, he had also been disowned for his desire in wanting to find out about his birth-family and on wanting to find him. Olok, at the time of the dinner date, hadn't had any contact with his adoption family in hundreds of years.

Olok, unlike he, who was fully straight, was gay; he had been beat up a lot for his orientation—one of his cousins had asked him how he liked eating shit while face-slamming him into the mud one time, and a classmate had asked him how he liked sucking ass while beating him up, and another of his classmates had actually had the nerve to throw him at a pole after asking how he liked donut punching. Olok's shoes had once been set on fire as well; a teacher had also watched as he had been chased around the classroom by his classmates, who had been brandishing, and beating, him with rulers.

His brother, after graduating from Staffer's Academy, had gone unemployed for a few hundred years before being approached by his current employer; a quick interview had been done, then the man had left, then an envelope had shown up in his mailbox asking if he'd like to partake in the opportunity to work for him. An apartment, located underneath Mr. Surfeit's massive mansion, had been generously given to him; Olok had put forth the claim of his employer being the only man that he'd ever work for and he had even shown this by showing him his Loyalty Papers—Mr. Surfeit's name had been placed on the papers at year thirty of Olok's employment.

The dinner-meet between the two of them had spanned three hours; he had told his brother things on his life, he had listen to his brother as he spoke of the things that had happened in his life, and then, near to where the outing was coming to a close, he had written his number down and then slid it forward. A request for Olok to stay in contact with him had been made; Olok, with a suspicious little glint in his eye, had said _oh, you don't have to worry your heads off on that one_. The bill for the meal had been split evenly between them then they had gone to their respective homes; a week after the shared meal, a visitor had shown up on his doorstep—Mr. Surfeit had been let in, an interview had been given, then he had left. He had been hired to work for the man a week and a half later; Olok had wasted no time in saying that he was to live with him in his apartment after he had shown up for his first day on the job. He and his brother still lived in that same apartment and they still got along famously.

"Though we didn't agree on the man's first choice for a wife we did on the second one." he thought as he rummaged through the room's stationed items.

Though not at first, of course. He and Olok had remained at a distance from her, and had revered her in the custom way that their species did of the ones that they didn't know; even after Lhaklar had been born they had continued doing this. It had taken a full three years before they had come around with her and it had also taken a further three more years before her name was placed on their papers; to them, she was nice, polite, very trustworthy, very respectful, and she seemed to also be very complimentary. Not a day went by without their seeing, or hearing of her complimenting someone in her husband's service about how sappily dressed they were, or how well their hair was. Mistress Angel had let him and his brother, and the rest of their co-workers, gain trust in her on their own; not once had she gone around, bugging one about what their life's history was or on how they went by their daily lives after getting off work. Really, it had only been after Kalach Speelin had told her certain things about his dark history that he and his brother had made the decision to tell her what their history was.

To them, in regards to their employer's first wife, who hadn't only been very money-hungry but also abusive and very non-trusting, their employer's second wife was a once in a lifetime sort of spouse. They were more than happy to have her name on their papers and, for the record, they were more than happy to know that she was alive, well, and that, one day, she'd be re-acquired by her husband and then returned to the mansion.

He was sighing right when his employer stepped back from the room's final-searched item. The man took the latex gloves that were on his hands off, then discarded them by simply tossing them behind one of the room's stationed file cabinets, then turned to look at him, his brother, and Losal.

"Boys, get ready to teleport." his employer said. "Losal, contact Mr. K. Speelin—tell him that we'll be in need of his assistance."

"Sir?" Kalach Speelin said after being contacted and then appearing in the room. To Ulok Gzujus, it seemed to of only taken two minutes for the man to do as he had been instructed to do when, in reality, it had taken his co-worker five minutes to get himself dressed for the weather, then to get to the shield's exterior, then to get into the shield, and then to find and then get into the store.

"We're heading to the apartment that's listed as my wife's area of residence—14235 Forest Hill Dr., Green River, Wyoming." TazirVile Surfeit said.

"You f..." Losal's excitement over this development was so great that he couldn't say a thing more.

"Yes, whatever we find we send to my place." TazirVile said as he teleported from the store. After appearing before the building that his wife, and sons, were said to be living in, and then seeing that they had done the same in teleporting to the same location, he said, "Or, excuse me, the possessions. Whatever possessions that're in the building that are my family's are to be sent to my place—leave any and all furniture items behind."

"Does that include the items owned by the Reezal boy, sir?" Olok asked.

"Yes... even his stuff is to be sent to my place." TazirVile replied as he went towards the apartment's front door.


	35. Chapter 35

"Freedom!" Hazaar exclaimed as he tore his seatbelt off and then threw it to the side. After "kicking" the door open, he jumped out then dropped to his knees. He started kissing the concrete of the parking lot that Bile had parked the car in. "Oh sweet, sweet ground! My feet will never leave you again!"

"You're a retard!" Lazeer snickered despite the fact that he had come close to doing the same thing. Instead of breaking his neck to get out of the car, and then dropping to kiss the ground afterwards, he had just gotten out of the car as fast as he could.

The indention marks that were on the seat, that was behind the driver's, and its passenger seat, had been placed there by him; with Bile driving as fast as he was, and with the music being so loud, and with the other motorists either honking their horns or yelling at his brother to either watch it or to slow down, he had just not been able to prevent the ends of his fingers from digging into the seat that he had taken to sit on. He had come close to losing his breakfast on more than one occasion all during the near two hour-long drive from Green River, Wyoming to the town-turned-city of Nordic; he had counted each gag, cough, and each and every belly gurgle that had been experienced all during the drive. Thirty-one. He had come close to hurling thirty-one times since the trek from home to Nordic started.

He and Lazeer had been subjected to listen to Judas Priest, AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, and Disturbed for the first half of the drive to Lincoln County; the second half of their drive had consisted of hearing Hinder, Three Days Grace, Rammstein, Godsmack, and the first half of Hollywood Undead—the last song of the latter disc of music had been Black Dahlia, a right kick-ass tune! After exiting the tunnel, and then seeing the sign that had said that Lincoln County was just a mile and a quarter away, Bile had turned the music down and then slowed down. The music had been turned completely off after they had reached the outskirts of Nordic. The parking lot that Bile had picked to park in belonged to the abandoned building that use to house a J.C. Penny store; with all that they had endured over the last near-two hours, neither he nor Lazeer said a thing after finishing their after-drive activities.

"Lazeer and I both came close to leaping out of the car after Bile pulled into the parking lot." he thought as he stretched his legs.

Which would of been a very dangerous thing for them to do but, yeah, with Bile going eighty miles an hour, and with his music being as loud as it was, they had come close to doing it. No amount of persuasion, or chiding, would of made the effort in doing so seem less feasible if the two of them had decided to do it. Thanks to Bile, and his music, his ears were ringing—he bet his left arm that Lazeer's ears were ringing as well; while Bile had let Lazeer do the honors of putting the music into the disc player he had been the one in charge of the volume dial. It had almost been like the car had had a heartbeat, the music had been that damn loud—he had felt the seats underneath him vibrating and he thought that he had seen the sides of the car's interior going in and out on more than two occasions during the drive.

After doing two turns around the car, he stopped then turned to look at what was around him; the town of Nordic, which was located on the stretch of road called U.S. Route 89, had encountered a lot of change over the last twenty-two hundred years. It had started out as having a population of 602 in 2010; thanks to the plagues, and the droughts and numerous climate changes, the population had dropped to being next to nothing and fast. It had turned into being a sort of ghost town after the last plague occurred; only one family, consisting of a single adult woman and her two, teenage sons, had been seen as living in the town for the first ten years that followed the plague then, like a light switch, things had changed. Nordic had gone back to being as it had been before the plague had set in then, about twenty or so years after that happened, someone had been struck with a stroke of genius—the town had been turned into a mini-city, complete with every damn store that one could imagine.

Really, that was the reason behind their coming here; they had wanted to go somewhere where there were more than a handful of stores and where them stores didn't just offer cheap-deals or stuff that would last only a month or two. Bile had also had a mind to come here because of the women; apparently, he had been without a female companion for a while and was, as he had said on the drive, "starving" for a little, non-related, feminine company. While he also had plans to do some shopping for their mother he also had plans to postpone his momma-shopping until after his "need" for a female companion was satiated. He and Lazeer were going to concentrate on their mother first then, if they had enough left over, they were going to spend a little on themselves and, if they had anything left over after buying something for their mother and then for themselves, they'd look for something for Lhaklar.

Between the three of them, they had a hundred and eighty dollars; that was enough to get their mother two dresses, and some shoes to match them, and maybe a piece of jewelry to go with them. If they wanted to, they could forgo the shoe-buying for getting her a new purse or something—Lazeer was dead-set on getting their mother a dress and some shoes, and Bile was very set on getting their mother some jewelry; he was on the fence on what he wanted to get for her. He was hoping to hang around Lazeer for a bit—instead of just buying their mother something on the fly, that may or may not match the color of the item that his brothers had in mind to get for her, he was planning on basing the color of the item that he got for her off of what Lazaar got for her. Jewelry almost always went with everything, so he wasn't but so concerned over keeping in-tune with the color of the jewelry that was purchased. If he couldn't find any shoes, or jewelry-like items, for her, he was to get her a handbag or, if the price was right, a new coat or something—she was a fan of leather, and that went with everything.

"You both have your communicators so, if you need me, use them." Bile said as he started to leave the parking lot. "I suggest that you make sure that it's a good reason—you know what'll happen if you bother me for no reason when I'm busy with a lady."

"Enjoy your sex disease-carrying woman, Bile-O." Hazaar said.

"Air the car out when you're done!" Lazeer said loudly. "You didn't do so the last time—it reeked something awful! Phew... that after-sex smell is horrible when it's placed by you."

"I'll leave it just to spite you." Bile called back. "We meet at Kentucky Fried Chicken at twelve, no exceptions. Don't make me search for you two. Remember, I'm in charge. If ma finds out that I let you two wander around Nordic on your own she'll have a bird, and I'll be needing some thread and a needle to stitch up the wounds that she'll make on my back after coming after, and then catching me with one of them nylon dish towels."

"We'll be sure to make you chase after us." Lazeer said evilly. Bile stopped then turned around; it took him just a second to note the joke-like nature of what his brother had said. With the joke noted, he went on. He rounded the parking lot's corner then disappeared a few seconds later.

He and Lazeer stayed in the parking lot for another five minutes before moving off; when they reached the spot where their brother had disappeared at, they didn't see their brother. With their older brother gone, and possibly already searching for his lady-love, and with nothing or no one around to stop him, he reached his hand into the left-side pocket of his coat. A half-pack of Kamel Red Smooth Taste cigarettes had been slid into this pocket just before he and his brothers had shoved off; with himself not having indulged in any smoking that day he decided to go on and smoke his first cigarette.

The guy who he paid to get him his smokes each month had done something surprising; instead of getting him just two packs of cigarettes he had gotten him four and, when he had gone to pay him for them additional two packs, he had said for him to keep his money. That had been very unexpected, and it had also been quite nice of him to do that for him.

After taking the pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket, he took two out then slid the pack back into his pocket; one of the cigarettes went into his mouth while the other was given to Lazeer. Lazeer did the honors of lighting his own cigarette; as expected, after taking that first drag, then blowing the breathed-in smoke out, he squinted then made a face.

"If you don't like the cigarette hand it back." Hazaar barked. His brother's constantly done action of making faces during the smoking of a cigarette always annoyed him.

"I like the cigarette," Lazeer replied, then asked, "Why do you say that?"

"You keep making faces whenever you smoke," Hazaar said.

"Does it annoy you?" Lazeer's action of fluttering his eyelids made him feel even more annoyed with him.

"Hell yeah it does!" Hazaar exclaimed.

"Good, I'll keep making the faces then." Lazeer said.

He gave it a good consideration about going in the opposite direction... about leaving his annoying younger brother behind, and giving him a little scare that'd probably get the both of them in trouble. Lazeer sure deserved to be scared half out of his mind... all of the times where he had run his mouth, or had gotten on his nerves with his constant joke-doing, or had just plain refused to be normal because of his "poor, sensitive eye". There were a number of reasons to why he could up and leave his brother behind, and give him a little scare in the process, and there were two big reasons as to why he couldn't do so—the trouble that they'd get in after their mother was told that they had been on their own in Nordic city and, of course, his not being able to do an appropriate matching of the item that he wanted to get for their mother to the item that Lazeer bought for her.

He did not want to get their mother anything that was tacky, or ugly, or something that wouldn't match-up with what was purchased or with any of the other items that she owned. With the cigarette jutting out from between his lips, he ran over to where his brother, who had gone a short distance from him, was; the two of them walked side-by-side for a while before he "allowed" Lazeer to pass him by. They went by their way silently until, around ten or so minutes after their exit of the parking lot occurred, stopping and then going into a store; Lazeer led the way into Peoples Jewelry, which was one of them ritzy, ditzy jewelry stores that's prices were really ridiculous.

At first, he thought that his brother was crazy for going into the store; he remembered a time where he had seen a commercial for the store for a ruby and diamond necklace that had a price-tag of $110 to it, and then for a gold bracelet that had diamonds on it that cost somewhere over $150... while he wanted to buy their mother something good he didn't want to break "his" bank or get something that was too nice to wear. If Lazeer got something for her here then there was also a good possibility that he, with his plain thirty dollars, wouldn't be able to match it or come anywhere close to finding something that would look good with it.

"Hello sirs," a saleswoman, who was just as pretty as could be, and who had the lightest of blonde hair on her head, said right after they had entered the store. "If you need any help, I'm available."

"Thank you," Lazeer said politely. "We will if we need assistance with anything."

He went to the side of the store that Lazeer wasn't looking at; whether it was fate or fortune he didn't know but, a little later on, he would discover that he had gone to the side of the store that had the more expensive jewelry on it.

The first necklace that he looked at had a long, solid gold band on it; the tag that was on this piece of jewelry said that it had been made out of 18-karat gold. He didn't need to look at the price; he knew on instinct alone that anything gold was expensive. The necklace that was beside that one had a diamond and emerald, heart-shaped pendant on it; while he liked this necklace he didn't like the $189.99 price-tag that was on it. He saw a white pearl and bead necklace next; while it was nice, and had a good length of nineteen inches, it was too expensive. The matching bracelet and earrings that were beside it were also too ridiculously overpriced. He found himself liking the red garnet flower drop necklace; it was set in sterling silver, and it had a good length to it. Again, like with the other pieces of jewelry that he had looked at, this piece was priced over what he had in funds.

With his frustration levels being noted, he decided to go outside; before entering the store, he had snuffed his cigarette out and then left it by the small trash can that was by the store's entrance. He decided to go out, grab his cigarette, re-light it, and then finish it.

Just as he was turning to exit the store he saw that his brother was standing by the cash register; he was buying something from the store and, what's more, it looked like he was getting a better than exceptional view of the cashier's bosoms. While the pretty, blonde-haired saleswoman was leaning over the counter-top slightly it also looked like she was purposely trying to show his brother her perky, and well-tanned, breasts—thanks to her red blouse, that was "mildly" open on the top, there was enough cleavage to take note of from across the room. After seeing this sight, he left the store then grabbed his cigarette; after re-lighting it, he waited.

"Awwww... did my owder browdor get jaiwous?" Lazeer said five minutes later, after exiting the store that he had done some shopping in.

"Think you took long enough?" Hazaar snapped. During the wait for his brother, he had smoked two additional cigarettes after the first had been smoked. "What the hell were you doing in there?"

"Talking to the hottie who's behind the cash register." Lazeer said. As if to emphasize this, he turned then waggled his fingers at the woman; she responded by giving a little, flirtatious wave back.

"You bought something for mom," Hazaar said. He felt a little jealous over his brother pulling a move on a woman... the fact that he had done it right in front of him didn't make the level of his jealousy drop any. "What'd you get her?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out at a later time." Lazeer said. He moved the two bags that were in his hand out of his brother's reach then walked down the sidewalk.

That was just too damn unfair! He had hoped to rely on what his brother had bought to make his decision on what he was going to buy for their mother—now that his brother was keeping his purchases to himself he found himself unable to do that. The wave of hysteria that washed over his still-present frustration and annoyance caused him to abandon his brother; he crossed the street then went into a store that was called Beauty and Beyond. One look was enough to tell him that what he was looking for for his mother wouldn't be found in the store; he left it quickly then he went down the sidewalk. Lazeer, he saw, was leaning up against the corner of a building; it looked like he was enjoying the fact that he was having an anxiety attack—with himself being as busy as he was in trying to find a store to shop in, he ignored this.

The next two stores he didn't like either; they had either cheap merchandise in them or merchandise that was fit for women who wore plus-sized clothes—neither of them types of merchandise were what he was looking for so he moved on. The next store was exactly what he was looking for; it was a small building, made of yellow and green bricks, and it had a sign over the door that said Styles For The Occasion. He went in, then gave his shoulders a shake—for some reason, a chill had blown over him after he had gone into the building—, then started browsing the items that were on the shelves.

"Sir," a tall, green-eyed woman, who had long, brunette hair, said after giving his shoulder a slight tap. He had been browsing for all of two minutes; due to his being so enthused in what he was looking for, and in what he was looking at, he had jumped after feeling his shoulder being tapped. "You look like you need a little help—may I be of service to you?"

"W... yes. Yes, I could use a little help." he said. "I'm looking for something for my mother—she has real red hair and emerald green eyes—"

"Sounds like you need to look at our various red, purple, and blue stuff, sweetie." the woman said. She beckoned for him to follow her to the store's back; he found that there was more than enough of them colored items in this section of the store and he also found that there was a much more variety of purses and shoes in this section of the store too. He was just starting in on looking for something to buy when she said, "What's she like? Tell me a few things about her."

He stood, thinking and wondering why the woman had asked him that question. Did this human woman not know who he was, or who his mother was, or had she come under the belief that he was in the building looking for something for his mother who she perceived as a whore? Or had she just asked him that question after noticing who he was and who he had been birthed through?

No amount of rational thinking would of held him back if anyone had dared to call his mother a whore or a slut; his knuckles would be all bloody and broken and the one who had dared to call his momma one or both of them names would be needing a hospital visit. His mother wasn't a whore or a slut; she was a beautiful, respectable woman who did her best to help others. He had seen many blonde, black, brunette, and red-haired women walking around in skin-tight dresses, and stockings, and with having their faces painted up with what looked like two applications of makeup over the years; curiously, them women had also reeked of perfume and had been carting a following of men at their backsides. Those were whores; in his mind, the women who did all of that were doing nothing more than showing themselves off. We're on the market, boys, come and get us... that's what they were saying.

He settled on telling the woman, who was wearing a pair of black slacks, black heels, and a purple satin blouse that had a name-tag on its left breast that said _Hello, My Name Is Lily_ , that his mother was a one in a million type of woman—which was true; he _did_ think that she was one of them types of women.

"My mother is a very wonderful person," he said. "Very respectable, very beautiful, doesn't flaunt her looks but so much, and she's raised me and my three brothers practically on her own."

"Sounds like she needs a good commending." the woman replied. "Do you know your father?"

"Not really." the question of whether the woman knew who she was talking to rang loud in his head again; he was the son of the most important person on the planet and yet here he was... talking to someone who was asking him questions on his mother and now on his father. He decided to see if he could jog the woman's memory on who his mother was. "He just showed up on the planet a few months ago... he's all camped out near Expedition Island—near the town of Green River, you know? I've had a few contacts with him... don't really have an opinion on him."

"Take it real slow... I'm sure that you and he will get to know one another and will be pals in nothing flat." the woman, who he now thought of as someone who was either not very in-tune with the news or who was on something that was causing her mind to not connect the dots, said.

After see how "far-gone" the woman was, he told her what he was looking for and then followed her around as she showed him this thing and then that thing that was either too expensive or that he didn't think was good enough for his mother. In the end, he found a dark cherry flap-bag that had a dark red leather braided strap on it; he purchased this bag, then took it after it was bagged for him, then took the change that was given to him, then left the store. Though pleasant with the woman, he was more than glad to be rid of her company; he was fast in running across the street after leaving the store.

"Mom'll be damn happy with what I got for her." he said after getting to within a foot of his brother, who was sitting on the curb.

"What'd you get her?" Lazeer asked.

"You'll find out later... after she takes what I bought for her out of the bag." Hazaar replied.

"Got anymore cigarettes?" Lazeer asked after a moment of silence had fallen between them.

"Yeah, plenty more."

"Can I have one?"

"For a dollar, yes."

"Dude! Come on!" Lazeer exclaimed.

"Surely, Mr. Rich-Pants, you have a dollar to spare." Hazaar said.

"What's wrong—spend all of your dough in that store?" Lazeer asked.

"Yes, and for a damn fine cause too—my mother." Hazaar said as he started down the sidewalk.

If he and his brothers had decided to stay around one another, or if they had decided to meet up somewhere about thirty minutes to an hour after they had reached Nordic, they would of all commented on how fast the time had gone since their arrival to the town-turned-city; he had decided at the last possible second to postpone his search for a woman to do some quick shopping for their mother—maybe it was the shopping that had caused the time to go by so fast?

The fifty dollars that he had started off as having had been spent rather quickly; after going into the first store that he had noticed, and then seeing the light brown suede dress, that had tassels coming down from the knee-high skirt, he had just been unable to stop himself from not continuing with the postponement of his search for a date. The price-tag of the item that he had noticed had said $49.50; a quick count on what the tax may be had told him that he was around two to four dollars short of what the dress's real price was so he had left the store and then gone money-shopping.

The humans, along with having an uncanny ability of throwing things that were either still mint-in-condition, or that were brand new, or that still had good use to them in the trash, had a strange way of handling their money—they dropped their small change, or a few dollars, and they never bothered to retrieve it. He had found a nickel, a dime, ten pennies, and then three whole dollars a few minutes after exiting the store that the dress was in; the dress was purchased right after that was found then he had made the decision to just walk around—after ten minutes of doing so, he had "wandered" into an area where street-wary people went to unwind from their day or to sit and relax after walking around for minutes or hours on end. He had no more reached the rest area before finding his first "customer"; the woman, who had been too busy in talking on her cellular with a man who had seemed a bit too pushy to him, had never noticed his hand reaching into her unguarded bag or his action in taking the twenty dollar bill, that had simply been left lying out in the open, out from the bag.

After taking the $20 from the unsuspecting woman's purse, he had stood up, then stretched, then moved off to another of the area's stationed benches. The second woman that he had sat behind had been busy with a young child, who she had been having a time with in getting to behave; he had taken advantage of her attention being absorbed in her child to "sift" through the contents of her bag, which had simply been lying underneath the bench that they had been sitting on. His prior action of standing up, and then stretching, and then moving to a different location, had been done after the ten dollar bill had been removed from her bag; in all, he had taken advantage of five unsuspecting women, who had either not been paying attention to their bags or who had decided to just toss their bags under the benches that they had taken to sit on. Sixty dollars, mostly in five and ten dollar bills, had been safely placed on his person at the time of his exit of the rest area; it must of been his lucky day because, soon after making the decision to leave the area, he had happened on a roll of cash that had simply been lying beside the street. He had found twenty dollars in five dollar bills—though a little on the soggy side he had been able to dry it and then use it.

He had been able to do a lot with that $80; very little it had been left over after he had gotten through with spending it. A full set of jewelry, consisting of a necklace, that had fake gold coins hanging from it, a pair of matching earrings, and a single, false-gold bracelet, had been purchased from one store then another ring had been purchased from another. The single-purchased ring was a size seven—big enough to fit his mother's index finger—and it was a dull, but quite glisteny, red color; the coiled snake design that was on the band was covered in red and pink "diamonds" while the eyes looked to have emerald-imitation gems in them. After getting them items, he had gone to the parked Buick. All of what he had purchased had been stored in the car's trunk then he had gone on his way—with his interest in getting his mother something satiated he started in on the search for a female companion.

"Look out ladies because here I come." he had thought after storing his purchases in the Buick's trunk.

Though friendly with just about anyone he had a preference for the women who he took on to be his dates to have petite bodies and long hair; it was the darker haired women that he liked the most but he also found himself liking the blondes too. He stayed clear from women who had red hair—on the few times where he had slept with a woman who had red hair he had felt like he was committing a crime; his mother had red hair, the woman who he was fucking had red hair, and he was conceived through incest... it had just not felt right so he had made the decision to not chose women who had red hair as his bedded companions.

He didn't blame his mother for his conception and then birth; she had been raped and she had been forced into having him and then, after fending for the two of them in the cruel deserts of Egypt, and then having him, and then holding him for that first time, she had fallen in love with him. Ma had caught pregnant for his father before his conception happened but, unlike he, who had been born and then raised by her, she had gotten rid of that baby; though he was one who valued life highly, and though he thought bad of abortion, he understood the reason behind that abortion's doing. Incest was wrong on so many fronts. One born through incest could well have mental issues, or deformities, and there was also a good chance of the offspring born through incest not making it out of the womb alive; he guessed that, since he had no mental issues, or deformities of any kind, he was lucky.

A father shouldn't be allowed to marry and then breed with his daughter; a mother shouldn't be allowed to marry and then breed with her son; and one who was a sibling to another shouldn't be allowed to marry and then have children with that sibling—there was a reason to why people who were unrelated married one another... that combination kept the genetic pool clean and fresh. The genes that came from the uncorrupted pool were much more pure than the ones that came through the corrupted pool.

He didn't so much think that his mother's marriage to her great-uncle was incest; the two weren't that close to one another and it did seem like there was a mutual love felt between the two of them. While DuruVile Bolushi Surfeit was related to his mother Ashaklar Zoopray wasn't; Ashaklar Zoopray hadn't had any involvement in adding any of her genes to his mother's genome—but, due to her being his adoptive father's mother, she had had a hand in adding her genes to his brothers' genomes.

"Hold up fella," a rather burly man, who had the biggest arms that he had ever seen on a human, said after he stepped up to the entrance of a small bar called The Tipsy Topsy. "I.D. or no entrance."

"Right here," he said. After fishing his wallet out from his back pants pocket, then taking his fake I.D. out of it, he showed it to the man; the man was fast in giving it back and in telling him that he could go inside.

After going into the bar, he found himself a seat then placed an order for a Guinness—though he wasn't one for too-frequent drinking, or for over-consumption of alcohol, he did drink; his first drink had been downed some hundred to a hundred and twenty years ago... it had been a Guinness. With himself seated, and after being given his ordered beverage, he started looking at the establishment's female clientele—he didn't know how or why but, about five minutes in on his stay, he started thinking about the child that he and his brothers had been on and then off-again raised with.

His mother had told him once that his great-great grandfather, ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit, was a womanizer; the man had personally said that he had slept with over a hundred women and that each of the women that he had slept with had come from the planets that he had conquered—after being told this, he had said that he bet the man had also slept with more than the women who had come from the planets that he had sacked. After being returned from Limbo, he had been abstinent for about six or seven months before a woman by the name of Lisa Ann Wahlberg had caught his eye; the woman, who was a scientist, and who just so happened to still be alive, and who was still a resident of Atlas's stronghold and tribe, had been caught and then taken to his adoptive father's ship one day. She had spent a few weeks in his adoptive father's ship before being removed and then taken to his great-great grandfather's ship, where a sort of torturing had happened.

His great-great grandfather had really fucked with that poor woman's mind; along with saying that he wouldn't ever hurt her, and that he was going to "take her home with him", he had also dumped her—which had effectively canceled the two former things that he had said. She had only just been returned to being fully fine upstairs when she was captured again; instead of just being placed in a cell in a ship of some sort she had been taken to Gamma Vile, where about three weeks of hell had happened between her and Mr. Shaam.

After being rescued from his grandfather's fortress home, and then getting her very badly damaged mind back to being somewhat under her control again, she had found herself as being pregnant—his mother had put forth the claim that it had taken more than four of Atlas's tribe to get her under control after this was discovered and she had also said something around the area of Ms. Lisa not ever being the same, mental-wise, after this occurred. Ms. Lisa's first, and apparently only, child had been born eight and a half months later; instead of doing as his own mother had in accepting her child after birthing him she had insisted on his being given to an adoption agency and then adopted out to someone else. Ms. Wahlberg hadn't wanted to carry the "burden" of her child and she had also not wanted anyone that she knew, or that she was friends with, to be "burdened" with him either, which was why his and his brothers' mother had been denied the honor of keeping him after having him either run up to her or appear on her doorstep.

For him, it was hard to understand the reason to why Ms. Lisa Wahlberg wanted nothing to do with her child and why she wanted no one who she knew to have anything to do with him; according to his mother, it all ran back to how she had been treated by his great-great grandfather. The horror that she had faced, the fear that she had gone through, and her intense hatred of the man had all caused her to close herself off to the only child that she had given birth to and to anyone who had an interest in her. Upon asking his ma if she would of done the same with him she had come back as saying no—it had been at this time where he had found out about his only full-sibling and what had happened to it.

"I feel right sorry for having gotten rid of that child." she had said. "Not a day goes by without me wondering what he, or she, would look like or what kind of life he, or she, would have if I hadn't of gone to have an abortion."

Naturally, with seeing how upset she was over her aborting one of her children, he had gone up to her to give her some comfort; while he was glad that she had "shut herself off" to their father he was very open to her having other children by his adoptive father—again, he didn't see any full-blown incest going on with her or his adoptive father and there was also the expressed emotion thing that was going on between the two of them that said that any form of siblings by them would be a good thing.

Even though he hadn't seen his and his brothers' synthetic sibling in a while he did miss him; it was going on three hundred and eighty years since he and his brothers had seen him... a right long stretch of years. He did hope that the kid was doing well wherever he was and that he was being treated right.

"On me," Bile said. A rather busty woman, who looked to be in her mid-twenties, had just taken up the stool that was beside the one that he was sitting on.

"Get real," the woman returned. The face that she made caused her pretty appearance to look less desirable for him; when she fluffed her jet-black hair, he was further turned off.

He rolled his eyes then went back to companion-shopping; when _get real_ , or something similar to _get real_ , was said by one by the female gender it usually meant that they weren't interested in flirting or in anything that the one who was offering to pay for her drink was offering. He said nothing more to the woman; he had never pushed a woman for companionship and, unlike his womanizing great-great grandfather, he didn't go crazy with the ladies. He only went for female companionship once a month—sometimes, he went up to three months before deciding to look for one of the opposite gender to spend some time with—and he never did the hop-in, hop-out routine and then make a swift getaway after the deed was done. He spent a little time with his companion after their deed was done. He might sit and talk to her some, or just listen to her as she vented her troubles, or make her a meal or, if he had any cash on his person, take her out for a little something to eat. He knew better than to use a woman for her body; he liked sex, and he liked women, but, dammit, he wasn't going to use a woman for her body. If he found someone that he liked, and if that someone didn't shove him away, he'd sit and talk with her first; he'd treat her well—no hint of what he wanted from her would be expressed until after she had dropped the ball on him a few times—and he'd watch for any and all signs or signals from her that said that he had either gone too far or that he wasn't in the area that he wanted to be in or that he was in the right ballpark. If the woman was interested—if she gave him the signs that she was interested in him—he'd ask if she wanted to go "somewhere"—which was the nice way to ask if she wanted to leave the location and then follow him to another location where their deed would take place in.

Some of the men who visited bars went a bit too far when it came to the ladies; he had seen many a man walk up and then throw something on the counter and then say _hey gorgeous, it's all on me_ and he had also seen many a man just walk up and then do the slap-of-the-ass thing on a woman who they were interested in. Either the _get real_ thing would be said or the woman who's ass was slapped would turn around to deliver a return slap to the one who had dared to offend their personal space bubble; the men who he had seen going up to a woman and then grabbing and then twisting her around to looking at them had either gotten a slap to the face or a kick to the nuts for their troubles. He didn't like any of them methods—being told to back off or get real was better than getting a slap in the face or getting your nuts assaulted by a knee or a shoe; getting into a fight with the partner of a woman, who you had just ass-slapped, or tried to pull a move on, need not be done either. It was better to play it smart and safe than dangerous. Do the nice approach and you might just get the results that you're looking for; do the mean and rough approach and you might just get hurt.

After two minutes of returned searching passed he chanced a look down the bar's counter; the woman that his eye landed on was a right pretty one. Along with having dark blonde hair, and blue eyes, she looked tall. She was wearing a cream-colored blouse, that was very open on the top, and that had very short sleeves on it, and black jeans; the heels that were on her feet matched the blouse well. He looked at this woman, who was seated five down from him, for a few seconds before deciding to stick his neck out; an order for a drink was made, then a five dollar bill was given as its payment, then he made the request for his just-made drink to be sent to the woman. The bar tender did as he had requested; he wasn't but so surprised that, after she got his drink, and then was told that he was the one who had sent it to her, the woman got up then walked over to him.

"Hi there handsome," the woman said after taking the available stool that was to his immediate right. After sitting down, she pointed at the drink that he had purchased and then sent to her. "Business or pleasure?"

"Neither, Miss. I never send drinks for business or pleasure." Bile replied.

"Jerry said that you was the one who sent the drink." the woman said.

"I did, yes." Bile replied. "Looked thirsty over there."

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Bile,"

"Bile? Odd name for one who looks so handsome."

"Ever hear of a woman named Angel Irene?" Bile asked. He always had to give a small explanation on why he had been named Bile to every woman who he met and had an interest in.

"Yes—the heroine. She's the one who put the shields up."

"She's my mother."

"No wonder. I've heard stories that she was raped by her father. Is that true?"

"Very—I'm the product of one of them rapings." Bile replied.

"I read in the paper that she lives in Green River, is that true?"

"It is—me and my three, younger brothers live with her." Bile replied. "She's a fine woman—raised all us well. None of us have done a thing bad in our lives."

"That's good to hear—I'd hate to report you to the law."

"Don't do that!" he had detected the playful note in the woman's last sentence; he decided to play off of that. "I just got out of the insane asylum. That wrap-up jacket was not cool or comfortable... they gave me shots in the ass and then threw me in a padded room that had no lights in it."

Sometimes the action of being playful worked wonders in making one's nerves drop and in getting one to trust you; he threw a few jokes before throwing a few playful sentences then, after noticing that she was a little tense, he told her a few things about himself. He had just gotten through telling her about his educations when he decided to shut his trap. He let the woman take the torch of what was to happen between them; it didn't take long before she told him a few things about herself. Though she didn't give him her surname she did say that her given name was Gracie; she was twenty-five years old, single, and she had an older brother and two, younger sisters. She was a student in Alpine University; the career that she was looking to be involved in revolved around fashion. She had been coming to the Tipsy Topsy for around three years to relax and regroup from her hectic school schedule. Gracie had two cats, who she never placed a name to, and a hamster named Brutus; she lived in her very own apartment in the town of Alpine, which wasn't only the closest town to Nordic but was just seven miles away.

Though quiet during the exchange of information he was taking very keen notes on all that was said; all of what she had told him was very important—the location of her apartment especially so. During their talking, and information exchanging, he had one more Guinness; he asked her if she wanted another drink after ordering his own, which got the response of _not sure, is the faucet still dripping?_ which caused him to laugh lightly. After ten minutes of talking, and beverage consuming, he decided to ask her if she wanted to spend a little extra time with him.

"So, is there anything that you've got going on for the next hour and a half to two hours?"

"No, I'm free. What about you?"

"Free as a jaybird, ma'am."

"You drive? I had a friend drop me off." Gracie asked.

"Yes—my mother let me borrow her Buick Lucerne this morning."

"That sounds like an old car..."

"It is. My mother found it; she fixed it up very well. The ride in it is just as smooth as can be." Bile said.

"Take me to it."

He led Gracie out of the bar then he took her to the parked Buick; the drive from Nordic to Alpine was a nice and pleasant one. Gracie not only liked sitting beside him but she also liked the opportunity of "rummaging" through the bag that his music discs were in. He let her have free rein with the radio, and with whatever tunes she wanted to listen to, and he gave her one of the cigarettes that were "hiding" in the car's glove compartment—before leaving the apartment, he had snuck four cigarettes from Lhaklar's "hidden" stash, which he knew the location of all too well.

While conversation between them was plenty he did keep a few things to himself—last night, before going to bed, he had made two joints, which had yet to be smoked, and he had a gram of loose, but well-bagged, pot on him as well. The things that he had purchased for his mother were also kept to himself—though he mentioned that he had done some shopping for his mother he didn't specify on what it was that he had purchased or where his purchases were.

Things between he and his date got a little wild after the drive was complete; once he had pulled up to her apartment, and then gotten the car parked, he found himself being jumped at. The request for him to take Gracie from the car, and then to carry her to her apartment's front door, and then into her apartment, was made; once they were inside she went a bit overboard with her hands and mouth. Though she did do things a little on the "slow" side she did manage to tear his coat off of him; the green shirt, that had a single, long tear on its chest area, was pulled off him then his pants were undone and then slid down to his knees. His date, at around the time that his pants were down by his knees, must of decided to forgo the "trip" to her bedroom—she pushed him to her couch then started getting busy. He forgot all about meeting Hazaar and Lazeer at Kentucky Fried Chicken right after she did so.

"Wonder what Bile's up to." Lazeer said right when his brother was starting to get busy with his date. "Been nearly two hours since we've seen him."

"So what... he's probably "entertaining" someone." Hazaar sniffed, then pointed out," The car's missing, did you notice that?"

"Yeah,"

"Okay then, quit being stupid and connect the dots on where he is, and on what he's doing."

It was quiet between the two of them for a few minutes; they looked at the empty space that the Buick Lucerne had previously been parked on, and at the humans that were walking around, and they listened to the many sounds that were going on around them before anything else was said.

"How much do you have left on you?" Hazaar asked after a full three minutes of silence had fallen between them.

"Thirty-five buckaroodies my good brother." Lazeer replied a bit too happily. "Enough to buy something for myself, and for Lhaklar, and for lunch as well. You?"

"Less than a dollar." Hazaar moped before saying, "Lucky shit... you're still rich while I'm just as poor as can be."

"You have your cigarettes."

"So fuckin' what! What's a cigarette going to do to get a few bucks?" Hazaar exclaimed.

"Sell a few for a dollar or t—"

"Oh yeah... someone's going to buy a single cigarette or two from a complete stranger. You're really on a roll today with your idiocity." Hazaar shoved past his brother then walked around the corner; he disappeared without saying a thing more to his brother.

Lazeer shook his head; it was no surprise to him that his brother had experienced another of his anger spells—along with snapping at him, and then going off in a huff, he had also left the Styles For The Occasion shopping bag, that had his single purchase in it, behind. As he bent down to retrieve his brother's shopping bag he thought about his own troubles—other than his depression, and his eye issues, he was also going through the same phase that his brother was experiencing.

Even though Hazaar had always been a bit of a hot-head he had become even more of a hot-headed person a hundred and ten years ago; he had gotten up one day with having a serious chip on his shoulder, which he had yet to get rid of. Hazaar didn't seem to want to put forth an effort in trying to control his phase-related anger outbursts; not a day went by without his snapping at someone, or without his being too-quiet, or without his being hair trigger-like on his emotions, or without his trying to fight, or cause fights to happen between himself and one, or more, of their brothers. Even though their mother was taking his outbursts, and his constant, day-in and day-out antics, in stride he knew that she was worried about him and he also knew that Lhaklar was worried about him too. While he was going through the phase as well he wasn't letting it get him down; oh, he had his tempered moments, and his moments where he did let his temper get the better of him, but he wasn't as swallowed up, or as dominated, by the phase as his older brother seemed to be. His family were more worried about his depression issues, and with the task of getting his glass, than what he was going through with the phase and, really, so was he.

His mother had given him the same talk that she had given Hazaar on what the both of them were going through; he knew that everyone reacted differently to the phase and he also knew that the phase almost always came about after one was about halfway through puberty—which he and Hazaar had experienced at about the time that they were nearing the halfway mark of their education at the University of Telepathy.

Unlike Hazaar, who seemed to be experiencing the full anger aspect of the phase, he was experiencing both the anger and the emotional aspects of the phase; along with snapping at the members of his household, and slapping certain items from their placed-on surfaces for no reason, he was also experiencing periods of extreme sadness and confusion. Though his mother had said that people who went through the phase might also experience periods of extreme happiness he had yet to experience that—and boy was he glad for this; being too emotional, or confused, was bad enough, he didn't need to be overly happy on top of that.

Some of the episodes that he experienced were plain stupid—if he so much as saw a butterfly, or a moth, he'd tear up; if he so much as saw the color red, he'd break down in a full-blown crying fit; and if he so much as heard a slow, or romance-based song on the radio, he'd be in need of a tissue. Sometimes, when he experienced a full-blown hysterical episode, he'd locked himself in one of the apartment's bathrooms; when that wasn't available to be done, he'd just jump into bed, then throw his covers over him, and then feign being depressed over his inability to go outside. Seeing bugs shouldn't cause him to be emotional—a bug was a bug; he saw them as cool things that one could hold and joke about, and maybe take home to be a sort of pet—and neither should seeing the color red or hearing a slow or romance-based song.

One day, after having an episode after seeing a rather vibrantly colored butterfly, he had started to wonder if he wasn't straight; even though he had known that his mother would accept him no matter what his sexual orientation was he had still given himself a test to see if his emotional issues were really stemming from his being more of a gender swinger or one who preferred their own gender. A magazine, that had nothing but men in it, had been purchased and then looked at; not only had he been disgusted by what he had seen in that magazine but he had also put it down after looking through four of its sixty pages—in contrast, when he had gone to look at one of Hazaar's pornographic magazines, he had gotten very excited... so much so that he had actually been in need of a new pair of underwear. He was straight, there was no doubt on that. He would not of had any issues if he had turned out to be gay or bi; he had no problems with accepting anyone who preferred their exact gender in a partner and he had no problems with accepting anyone who was asexual either. Everyone had a right in being who they wanted to be, whether that was gay or straight, or bi-sexual or asexual.

Seeing as he had nothing better to do, he decided to check around some—look at the sidewalk, or the ditch, for some coins, or cash, or look out for a woman who wasn't paying attention to what was going on around her.

"Hey there," he said after wandering into a bus stop, and then approaching a woman who not only looked rather young but who also had blonde hair.

It was no surprise to him that the woman did nothing more than turn to look at him; after making a face, she turned to facing forward again. After graduating from the University of Telepathy, then joining his family in Green River, Wyoming, he had learned that the humans were a rather fanciful bunch with their phones; the woman that he had taken notice of had one of them expensive pamphlet phones out. Not only must the items that were showing on the screen of her phone be important but she seemed to be very focused on what it was that was on her phone—he helped himself to the two bags that were simply sitting behind her.

His hand was slipped into the first of her two bags; while she looked at the items that were on her phone's screen, and then typed away after getting a text message, he snuck $50 from the first bag and then an additional $20 from the other one. With the money on his person, he moved away; the second woman that he went to acknowledge did the same as the first woman—he, again, helped himself to her unguarded bag. After slipping the twenty dollar bill from the second woman's bag he decided to put a stop to what he was doing—not only was $90 enough but he didn't like stealing; he knew what he had just done was wrong but... he did want to make his older brother happy. Maybe, if he had a little money on him, he would be.

"A man by the name of Kalach Speelin was the first to get to me after my water broke," while he had known certain details that regarded his birth he hadn't known the full specifics on it; one day, about fifty-two years ago, he had decided to change that. A few coins had been put in one of the student-only phones, that were located in the University of Telepathy's main lobby, then his mother had been called; he and she had spoken on how he had come to be born for nearly two hours before the phone had been returned to its station. "Your father wasn't in the house at the time... he sure broke his neck to get inside after hearing my scream."

"Was it just that one guy or were there others?" he remembered asking her.

"Four... no, five others ran up after he got to me—two maids and three butlers. One of the three butlers was new—his name was Jikon Cjup; with his being so new, and with his also being a young adult, he didn't know anything of what to do, so he just stood back." she had responded. "Kalach had just gotten me to sit down when your father ran up; your father, after hearing the words _water_ and _broke,_ scooped me up then started running—I don't think his feet touched the floor after I was in his arms."

He had already known that his mother and father, step-grandfather, and some guy by the name of Gloar had been his constant visitors during his hospital days; the same went with his already knowing that he had been given just two days to live after his parents were told to take him home—he bet that all of the doctors who had "tried" to keep him alive would flip after seeing how healthy he was. Was he weak, or frail? Was he rail-thin, or as pale as can be? Did he have all sorts of medical problems, or mental handicaps? The answer to all of them questions was a resonant no; he was as healthy as can be. He was six feet tall; he weighed a hundred and eighty-one pounds; and he was damn fine in the muscle department. His body may be lean but it was teeming in enough muscle to make one of the opposite gender go whoa—he had a good, hard chest, and a nicely developed six-pack, and he had strongly muscled arms and legs. His back... well he was working on that. While that part of his body wasn't teeming in muscle it wasn't glass-smooth either; in all honesty, he did want to have more muscle on his back—he thought that it looked a little too slender, and feminine.

"And they sho' no feminine parts on me, so my near glass-smooth back needs to go." he thought as he started looking for his brother.

After a few minutes of searching, he found Hazaar; he was standing at an intersection... not only were his eyes nearly shut but he was banging his head against the stationed light pole every few seconds. Being the person that he was, he couldn't stop himself from partaking in the finely given opportunity that he had chanced upon. Not only was he silent as he went forward but he also crouched low—ever since his early kid years he had enjoyed the activity of stalking, and then jumping out to give one, or more, of his brothers a small scare; it was his favorite past-time... one that he still did from time to time, and one that he was about to indulge in.

As he went forward, he wondered if his father had figured out who he was; the last newspaper article that he had read had said something about his father finally finding his brothers' school records and about his also finding his—had his father put two-and-two together after finding his school records or was he still clueless as to who he was? His mother had said that his father was a right smart man... a right smart man who couldn't figure out who he, his youngest son, was? Clues had been given; there were people who were connecting the dots on who he was and there were also people who thought that he was someone different—was his father still one of the latter or had he finally wised up to becoming the former? Was his father that confused or did he truly think that his thirdborn son had died?

He, like Hazaar, did feel some fear towards the man. He only knew the bare basics on him—he was his father and that was it. He didn't know him personally; he didn't know if he abused his kids or if he only used his kids as a way to get sympathy. His father was rich—this he also knew. Was his father one of them rich snobs who pushed their kids off on the hired help or was he an active participant of the raising of his young?

He went on thinking and wondering about his father for a few seconds before stopping—at the moment, he had a much more important task to do. The scaring of his brother was tops on his list; he could think and wonder about the old man later.

After reaching within a foot of his brother he stopped then sprang forward; he yelled boo then gave his brother a shove. Hazaar uttered a sort of squeal, then leaped up high, then sailed a little towards the street—luckily, for the both of them, he just landed in the road's adjacent ditch.

"Lazeer! You idiot!" Hazaar exclaimed. "There's cars driving by! I could of been killed!"

"You look a little on the sick side to me," Lazeer said as he moved the four bags that he had in his left hand to his other hand. "Y'look a tad less dark blue in the face—have you been eating your veggies? You know how ma's been getting on you to eat them vegetables."

"I'll make you eat my fist!"

Lazeer took off running; he ran by several humans, then crossed a street, then headed for an alley. He had no sooner reached the alley before stopping and then turning around—due to there being no exit to the alley he was trapped where he was. Hazaar, who looked about ready to explode, had been forced to wait for the light to change; once that light changed, he charged through the humans that were crossing the street at the same time as he. He had seen where he had been heading and he had made plans to follow him to it; once his brother saw him, he wasted not a second in both losing it and in charging at him. He forgot who he was; he just charged at him, then collided with him, then started beating him up.

Seeing as things were serious, Lazeer threw the bags that were on his person to the side then started defending himself; he threw five punches before kicking his leg up. Hazaar jumped off of him, then glared at him, then growled at him, then lunged; he grabbed him by the collar of his coat then heaved him up—his brother may be an inch shorter than he but he was just as strong as he was and, like he, when he was mad, that strength became mightier. Lazeer felt his brother's fists as they collided with his face and stomach; after a few minutes of being pounded on, Lazeer got up then grabbed his brother's fists. He swung his brother around then held him close... he tried to calm him down to, really, no avail—Hazaar was just too damn mad.

He had no more wrapped his arms around his brother when his brother decided to kick his leg back; after the heel of his brother's shoe collided with his groin, he groaned then collapsed to the asphalt.

"Ow man!" Lazeer exclaimed as he shoved his hands down between his legs. The cords in his neck stood out prominently as he fought the pain that he was feeling. "You made them go north for the winter, Hazaar!"

"You asked for it." Hazaar said as he rolled his shoulders. He went and grabbed the bag that he had left behind then he stood and watched as Lazeer started to roll back and forth.


	36. Chapter 36

He had made a lot more than what he had figured he would at Kale's World; the hour-long routine that he had done at that club had brought him $315—either he had happened on one of them lucky mornings, where women were more open to visiting dancing clubs, or someone had been very generous with him. After paying the establishment's $30 fee, then re-dressing himself, he had thanked Mr. Hemingway for his letting him use his dance floor; the trip to Kemmerer City had been done right after he had thanked the man. With Kemmerer City being in Lincoln County, and with his knowing that his brothers were in that county, he had contemplated on using his communicator to see how they were doing and if they wanted to rendezvous with him somewhere after his second dancing routine was through—like with the other times that he had danced, once he had hit that floor, and the music had started being heard, he had lost track of all thoughts and time; he had forgotten all about using his communicator and contacting them to see if they wanted to meet him somewhere a little later on.

He had made what he had expected to make at Rails; not only had he danced his ass off for two hours but he had also found himself giving two women a private dance in one of the club's back-rooms near to where that club's dance routine was complete. Upon leaving Rails, he had had $250 in his pocket—this had joined the rest of what he had made that day. With the routine at Kale's World, and then Rails, being complete, he had gone to the final club that he had planned to do some dancing in that day.

The Naughty or Nice club had been exactly what he had heard it was—an almost exact replica of the club that was in Rock Springs. It was an outside-based club that was open to all orientations and nationalities; people walked, or jumped, onto one of the club's big, wooden platforms, all of which had steel poles, or rails, on them, then got busy in doing whatever routines they had in mind to do. He had been reluctant at first; outside dancing wasn't something that he partaked in doing. He preferred to do his dancing inside an establishment, where certain regulations were in place and where it was safe—after seeing the ladies tossing their hard-earned monies into the air he had stopped being so reluctant to dance; the realization of his only having $535 in his wallet had done the rest in getting him to not be but so reluctant.

The money had started being tossed right after the first shake of the hip had been done; a twenty here, a fifty there, a hundred dollar bill... he had even seen two ladies throw a rolled up wad of cash at him—all of what had been thrown had been collected by one of the club's bouncers and then placed in a white basket that his name had been placed on. After thirty minutes of dancing, he had left the stage for a short break—and to make a quick count of what he had made, of course. The two wads of cash that the two women had thrown at him had been unrolled and then swiftly counted; not only had two, fifty dollar bills been found in that wad of cash but so had two, one hundred dollar bills. In just thirty minutes time, he had made $540—nearly this same amount had been gained during his next thirty minute routine while the other, thirty minute routines that he had done had earned him a little under $300, each.

The club's DJ, a fellow by the name of Greg Bishop, had said that he had never seen the club so full-up of customers; he had also said that he had nearly started crying after seeing the stage being money-rained on. Not only had he made a lot of money but so had the club—the man who ran the bar had drawn more than fifty drinks during his tenure at the club—so both he and the club had benefited from his being there.

At the moment, it was 1:40 in the afternoon; he was sitting in a small setting, shivering his just-dressed self off, counting what he had made at the club that he had just gotten through dancing at.

"I just made the event of Lazeer getting his glass happen!" Lhaklar thought excitedly. "Oh shit... I made sixteen hundred and fifty-three dollars here—that, combined with the five hundred and thirty-five dollars that I made at Kale's World and Rails, makes for a total profit of twenty-one hundred and eighty-eight dollars; add that with what's in the family savings and... holy moley! Two thousand, nine hundred, and thirty dollars... that's more than enough for Lazeer's glass!"

He had achieved his initiative; in just a couple of hours he had made enough to make what his youngest brother wanted most to happen. _Merry Christmas Lazeer_ , he envisioned himself saying to his younger brother after he returned home; _you get your glass you annoying little cuss and there's still plenty left over to keep our heads above water._ With the money counted, and then returned to his wallet, he grabbed his jacket, which was hanging on the branch of a nearby tree; he tossed that on then he decided to undo the four buttons that were on his shirt. His money-heavy wallet was put into the sewn-in pocket that was inside his shirt then his cigarette case was removed; after taking a cigarette from the case he slid the case back into its pocket, the cigarette was lit then smoked afterwards.

Now that everything on his work-related schedule was complete, he could concentrate on being just himself; he had a little under two hours before having to go home, he could use that by going out to do a little hunting, or to fish somewhere, or he could even look for one of the opposite gender to spend some time with. When it came to the latter item that he could do, he thought long and hard on doing it—it was going on two months since he had done anything, and he did have an itch to have a companion... after putting a few minutes in on thinking about going on to finding someone to sleep with he decided to not do so. He had said that he was going to do some hunting and fishing that early morning; his mother would be most suspicious if he came home with no moose or deer or without a string of fish on his arm. The money made during his dancing to the side, she'd be wondering what he had done all day—all that he had made would be added to their savings slowly, so not to gain any "unwanted" attention or concern. He couldn't just say that he had been with his brothers and, while he could say that he hadn't found anything while out on the hunt, he couldn't say that he hadn't caught any fish—he almost always brought something home after he went out to fish and his mother, and brothers, knew this all too well; it was either he stick to his original plan or run the risk of crossing under his mother's radar.

With the cigarette jutting out from between his lips, he teleported from Powell City. He went straight to Converse County; the sign, at the location that he had latched on, was loud in proclaiming where he was—Medicine Bow National Forest, that's what the white-painted letters, that had been burned into a piece of brown-painted wood, said. The park was in a section of the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest, which was a U.S. Forest Service managed area that extended a full 2,222,313 acres. The section that he was in, Medicine Bow National Forest, had a reach of 1,096,891 acres in it.

The Medicine Bow-Routt National Forest consisted of three parts: the Routt National Forest, which spanned 1,125,438 acres; the Medicine Bow National Forest, which was 1,096,891 acres; and the Thunder Basin National Grassland, which spanned 547,620 acres. Due to a similarity in their resources, and to their close proximity to one another, and to administrative purposes, all three had been merged in 1955. Thanks to the wide variety of game animals that were here—Elk, Mule-deer, Moose, White-tailed deer, Pronghorn Antelope, Bighorn Sheep, and Black bear—he didn't necessarily have to bring down a deer or a moose; wild fowl—turkey's, meaning—also roamed the Thunder Basin National Grassland, so, if he wanted to, he could also bag himself a turkey before going home too. With there being so many water sources in the location he'd not have to worry about which river to fish in or whether or not he'd be taking a string of fish home with him.

"So, quit lolly-gagging and get to doing what you said you was going to do today." his conscious snapped at him.

A single stomp of his foot caused a spear, that was made out of finely-compacted ground matter, to shoot up from the ground; he grabbed it, looked it over once, then went on his way. He went towards the trees... which was one of several places where an ungulate animal could be hiding in. As he went towards the trees, he remembered the time when his mother had taken him to a place that she had called the South Steens.

In all, it had taken him fifteen years to master the skill of Transformation; after learning how to change his normal form into that of most of the known animals that resided on the planet, and then learning how to act like each of them animals that he had learned to take the form of, his mother had decided to teach him how to change the coat pattern of his forms—so he could "blend" in with his surroundings a little better. She had decided to take the South Steens on as a sort of training grounds for them lessons to take place in.

"The art of changing the color pattern on the coats of the animals that you've taken to change into is a very useful tactic when you Transform, Lhakie." she had said on the day that she had made the decision to teach him the advanced steps of the Transformative power. "Not only does it help you blend into your environment but it also throws the predators off."

With his being green, he had commented on this tactic being unavailable to him; she had said that while his skin complexion may get in the way the pattern with which he chose to use might also give him aid— _not only will your color throw the predator off but the pattern of the coat that you chose to use will also shock said predator into backing off_ , she had said when he had brought the issue of his having mint-green skin up. Naturally, it didn't matter if he tried to take on the feminine form of an animal—like with his forms always taking on a form of his skin complexion he'd also always take on the form of a male animal.

At the time, he hadn't known the reason behind her decision in picking the South Steens as the area where that part of his training would be done in; after appearing in the location, and then taking it in, he had noticed that it was mostly dominated by wild horses. The South Steens was an area where wild horses were both managed and allowed to roam free; this 127,000 acre area had consisted of rugged, high desert, that was both grassy and barren in certain areas, and beds of lava rock, which had done wonders in keeping the wild equines' feet trim and hard. A type of tree called a Juniper had dotted certain regions while, in others, there had been sagebrush growing; all sorts of streams, ponds, man-made culverts, and basins had been in the area too. The brochure that he had gotten from his mother after the second trip to the location happened had said something about there being many mineral deposits in the area as well—on each of the trips that he had taken to the area, he had seen not a single one of them deposits; either he hadn't been looking hard enough or he and his mother hadn't been far enough into the area to notice them.

It had been the horses that had given him his answer on why the location had been picked as one of his training grounds; the area's large herd had consisted of many color types and patterns... he had no more seen one fine example of wild equine perfection before noticing another and then another and then another. He had seen normal-colored horses—blacks, bays, sorrels, and palominos—and he had seen many dun-patterned horses too. The bay dun stud that he had seen one day had had one fine body build on him; very finely muscled... very bulky, but having a very refined head and legs. The dark chocolate mare, that had tall, white stockings on three of her legs, and hazel-colored eyes, had been a beauty, as had the lanky bay stud that had a wide blaze on his face and a tall, white stocking on his front left and back right legs. He had seen a few grullo horses, and many roans; the pinto-colored horses had been what this herd had mostly consisted of and he had seen more than enough of them during each of the trips that he and his mother had taken to the location.

Before setting himself down to learning the lessons that she had wanted him to learn, he had watched the antics of the horses. The studs had pranced, and snorted, and had fought over either their harems or over a mare or young filly that they wanted to acquire for their very own; the mares had nursed their young, and had feasted on the nutrient-leaden grasses; and the colts and fillies had played without a care in the world. After about an hour of wild equine study, and then finally figuring out the reason to why he had been brought to the location, he had been given his first verbal lessons on how to blend in with his environment.

"Yuck! My first attempt in changing into a horse—which was one of the animals that I had yet to learn how to transform into—did not go well." he thought as he entered the park's forest.

Instead of transforming into one of the fine animals that he had studied he had changed into being a sort of wild, half-him, half-horse creature; he had come close to crying after seeing the monstrosity that he had changed into—his mother, on the other hand, had laughed behind her hand. After returning to his true self he had gone off to sit beside the lake that had been nearby. A herd, headed by a small, but compact, bay pinto stud, that had minimal roaning on his left side, had been in the area, as had a small herd of three horses—the yellow, or red, dun that had fronted this small band had been a very nicely muscled stud! He had only just produced a sigh when both of them bands charged out of the area; a nicker had been heard after they had left then he had looked up to see the most spectacularly colored, and patterned, horse that he had ever seen in his life.

The mane had been short, yes, but the neck that it had been on had been strong and mighty; the back had been long while the legs had been mid-long and pretty sturdy. The mildly wind-knotted tail had just about touched the ground. Later on, after going home, and then resuming normal activities, his mother would tell him that this horse was a palomino with extreme sabino characteristics—the head and neck had been a faded yellow color while the withers and chest had been a dark yellow color; the middle part of the horse, along with his hindquarters, had been a combination of faded yellow and crisp, dark yellow with white hairs intermingled. The three white patches that had been on this horse's left side had been the thing that had declared him a pinto; the nose, which had been slightly roman in appearance, had looked perfectly fine and well-suited to the animal that it had been on. This animal had stood around fifteen hands high and, he guessed, had weighed a good thousand to eleven hundred pounds. After taking one look at this horse, who had had two, ice blue eyes to boot, he had gotten to his feet and then tried to transform into the animal that he had been there to change into—unlike the last time, where he had changed into a wild creature, he had changed into a mint-green version of a yearling stud colt; a further change had taken place after he had decided to try to take on the stud's color and pattern.

"Very good, Lhakie." his mother had said after he had accomplished this feat.

He was just thinking about the palomino sabino stud's band members—a golden buckskin filly, that had dapples all around her, and a large star with a trim stripe running down from it; a palomino dun mare, that had loud white markings on her sides; a sorrel sabino pinto yearling colt; and a chocolate-colored mare that's coat was flecked with many dapples—when he heard the sound of the underbrush being walked on. He stopped; the muscles that were in his arms flexed, then grew taut; he was ready for anything that came out, whether it be a moose or a hare. Along with being taught the basic principles of his Transformative powers he had also been told to use this specific power of his only when he had to when he was out on a hunt; his mother had confessed to using her powers only when the situation with which they were needed to be used was dire and she had also said that the use of one's powers during the hunt was like a form of cheating. On the one hunt that he had done while being in a different form—a mountain lion was what he had taken on to be—he had felt so dirty... he had never used a different form when he was out on the hunt again.

Lhaklar moved once; a small step to the side was what did the trick in getting what it was that was out there to bolt from its hiding place. The big, buck deer, that had a better than decent rack on its head, came at him for only a second before swinging its body to the left; it went around him, then bolted towards the thicket. He, who thought that the animal would do more than keep his family well-fed for a few days, turned after it was past him then drew his arm back. His ground spear, after he threw it, penetrated the deer's side; the deer issued a single grunt before stopping and then turning to look at him. Two more ground spears were conjured from the ground, then thrown, then another was taken up after they were removed from his person. The first of the spears missed the deer while the second became embedded in its neck. Another call came from the animal before it collapsed to its side; the use of the spear that hadn't been thrown offed the animal after it was down.

"Yeeeeeeaaaaah! Lhaklar prevails bitches!" he yelled after approaching, and then examining, his kill. "Lhaklar provides for the family! He made enough money for his baby brother's goggled glass and he bagged a deer that's big enough to keep us fed for a few weeks! Woooo hoooo!"

After double-checking to see if the deer was dead he set to work in collecting what he wanted from it. The pieces of plastic that were in his bag were removed and then spread out beside the deer; the knife, which had a stainless steel blade in it, and which had a cord-wrap around its handle, was removed next. The horns were removed from the animal first; he set to taking the pelt from the animal after the horns had been placed to the side. After them two items were safely secure, he set in on making a long cut to the animal's underbelly; the organs—the heart, liver, and kidneys—were removed from the animal first then he went in to clean out the intestines and the other organs. The meat collecting took around twenty minutes to do; the small chunks of meat that he collected were put on one of the pieces of plastic, and were then rolled up for safe-keeping, while the larger pieces were put on another piece of plastic.

When he was done with the collecting process of what he wanted to keep from his kill he stood up; along with feeling a little tired he also felt a further sense of pride in himself—first the money for his brother's goggled glass was acquired and now a deer, could this day get any better for him? After doing nothing but standing around, looking at the drying bones of his kill, and listening to the birds that were in the trees, he looked at the items that were beside his bag; without a second to spare, he mouthed the spell that would send all of what he had taken from his downed deer to the cellar of his and his family's lived-in apartment—the cellar was cooler than the rest of the apartment, so all that he had collected from his kill wouldn't spoil between now and the time that he decided to go home. With all that he had collected from the deer safely placed, he left the remains of his kill behind—a coyote was fast in running up to claim the remnants of what he hadn't taken from the animal.

"Over two thousand dollars in my wallet, a few weeks worth of venison waiting in the cellar, and now heading off to do some fishing. Can't see anything ruining this day." Lhaklar thought as he started to whistle.

He went by his way for ten minutes; the sun was out, yes, but, due to the area that he had walked into, which had just bushes but no trees in it, he felt no warmth from it. It felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees since his arrival to the park occurred. He saw several deer, a moose with her weanling kids, and then a few turkeys—this latter sighting was what prompted him into thinking that his family might need some poultry in their diets; with Thanksgiving just around the corner, they could forgo the cost of going out to get a store-bought turkey for favor of a wild turkey that he had caught. He pulled his hunting knife out from his bag then threw it; the weapon had no more become embedded in the animal, and the animal had no more started to fall after having its side impaled with a piece of steel, before he reached it. After taking the knife out of the animal, then drying it on the ground, he sent the turkey to the cellar—instead of spell-sending it to the cellar he decided to flip the ground; with a single jab of his arms, and the thought of his family's cellar in place, he sent the animal on its way. After sending the turkey to the apartment he went straight for the nearby river, which was called the Emcampment River, and which was located very close to where he was.

All he wanted was eight, maybe ten fish; his mother had said for him to not bring the entire population of fish from the water source that he fished in—he was dead-set on obeying this instruction of hers.

He used his Acidic and Elemental Water powers after reaching the river; a thin steam of white acid came out of his right hand while a stream of water rose out of the river and then hovered to within an inch of his left. He made the water freeze around the acid then he grabbed a sturdy stick; the frozen strand of water-acid was wrapped around the stick's length twice before he reached down for the rock that was just beside his right foot. With his Elemental Ground powers, he made the rock become a hook—most of the rock crumbled while the hooked remains remained intact. Before attaching the rock-hook to the line that was on the stick, he made its tip bend forward a little; with the man-made fishing pole on his person and ready to go, he set to fishing. The hook sailed through air for a few seconds before colliding with the water; the line had no more gone into the water before being jerked up to the surface.

He flicked his wrist numerous times; the hook and line were no more in the water before being ripped up to the surface on each of the times that he flicked his wrist. He had learned how to do this by watching a fishing program a few years ago; what he was doing was called Fly Fishing. The action of the hook being thrown into the water, and then being yanked back up before being allowed to settle into the water, was the humans' way of imitating flying insects, which were known to be a favorite food-source to the fish that swam the various water sources on the planet. On the program that he had watched, the humans had almost always come back with some better than fine catches after using this technique; he was hoping to get a similar result by trying it out.

Along with normal fishing, and now Fly Fishing, he had also tried Noodling; the same program that he had watched had shown a group of human men and women using their hands and feet to fish-out a Catfish from the hole that it was guarding—these fish that were caught were guarding their young. He hadn't much liked the concept of doing this, and he hadn't much liked the results that he had gotten—his hands had been cut to smithereens on more than two occasions and he had also come very close to being bit in the face by a snake as well—, so he had only tried it once before deciding to not ever do it again.

Fish were not totally defenseless animals; some had teeth while others had plain strong mouths, there were even some species of fish out there that had bone-like growths under the flesh of their mouths—this was all used after a hand, a foot, or some fingers or toes were seen as creeping into its area. Some fish had poisonous skin while others had bone-hard outer bodies; the fins were also sharp—one could well get a bad cut if they touched the fins of a fish in the wrong way.

He had no sooner started Fly Fishing when a Rainbow Trout was sighted as coming in for a closer look; he waited until the fish took the unbaited hook then he yanked the stick up and then pulled it towards him. After putting in a two-minute fight, he made a circle of water form around the fish; with a wave of his hand, he made the trapped fish come towards him. A length of rope, which was about four feet long, had been placed in his bag just before everyone had gotten up; he retrieved that length of rope then, after puncturing the ball of water that surrounded the fish, then taking the fish up, he inserted one of its ends into the fish's gills and then secured it by tying it around the fish's jaws. He only went back to fishing after tying his catch to his belt.

"Four Rainbow Trout; two good-sized Cutthroat Trout; three Brown Trout; and one, ugly Brook's Trout." he said about an hour later. After securing all of his fish, then tallying all that he had brought in, he turned to retrieve the fish that he had just caught. "And my personal favorite, that I'm planning on mounting—Mr. Big Ol' Black Bullhead Catfish."

The final fish had been a surprise for him; he had simply dropped his line into the water and then allowed it to drop to the river's bottom; the next to last fish that he had caught—the Brook's Trout—had given him a good run for his money. Not only had he been tired but he had also been a little unnerved—the Brook's Trout had come close to snapping his line and causing him to snap the stick that the line had been wound around in half. It had been a ten-minute battle after the catfish had taken the hook; once again, he had come close to losing the stick-rod and the fish had also come close to severing his line on more than two occasions. By the time he had finally landed the catfish, he had been knee-deep in water; his muscles had been quivering, he had been huffing and puffing from pure exhaustion, and he had also been near to willing to let the fish go by the time he had finally gotten it subdued.

The fish that he was planning on getting mounted was a mostly dark brown color; its underbelly was yellow. The mouth had barbels near it; the head was broad; the fins were spiny while the overall skin-texture was smooth—there were no scales on its body. There was a tan crescent around the base of the fish's tail; the barbels were black; and the caudel fin was squared off at the tip. If he had to guess, this beast of a fine fish weighed a good four pounds—it was a pretty good catch and he was going to try his damnedest to get it preserved as a trophy. He bet Bile would flip after seeing it hanging on his side of the room.

Mmmm! Would he and his family be eatin' good for the next few weeks to a month or so. His mother would be making fish salad and fish steak; he and his brothers would be grilling fish maybe once or twice this upcoming week... hell, he might as well ask his mother is she could make up a new dish with what he had caught that day. About two weeks ago, one of the cooking programs that she had been watching, but that she had also abandoned after seeing that it was time to check on supper, had shown a segment on how to make something called Fishcake; he had written the recipe down after seeing how good it looked then he had simply filed it away with his magazines. The dish looked like a relatively easy one to make; it just consisted of filleted fish and potato patty, that was either coated in breadcrumbs or batter—really, all his mother would have to do with the dish is fry the fish. He was game in trying anything once, and his mother was a better than fabulous cook; he could see himself now... he'd probably be purring, and wishing that her Fishcake would reappear in his hand, after that first bite was taken.

With the thought of his mother cooking up some Fishcakes, and of her making fish salad and fish steak, and of he and his brothers grilling up some fish meat, and of his Black bullhead catfish being mounted on his wall, firmly placed in his mind, he grabbed his string of fish, and then his bag, up from where they lay then teleported home. He had around ten to twenty minutes before everyone was expected to be back; his fish would be cleaned and then stored in the freezer then his deer-meat would be around a quarter to halfway tended by the time everyone was back to being in the apartment. After everyone was situated, and after everyone had jumped on their mother, to tell her all of what they had done that day while being away from the apartment, he'd speak of how his day was; he'd go upstairs for a lengthy nap after everything was said and done with.

After appearing before the apartment, then taking a few dozen steps towards the front door, he stopped; the urge to whistle died right after he saw that the door to his and his family's apartment was wide open.


	37. Chapter 37

Their mother, before leaving the apartment, had given them two very important instructions: to have their communicators on them—which he knew had been complied with—and to lock the place up tight... it looked like one of them two very simple, yet very important, tasks hadn't been done.

After taking in the fact of the apartment's front door being wide open, he turned his attention to the driveway; were his brothers in the apartment and had one of them accidentally left the door open after going in? He got an answer to both questions after seeing that the Buick wasn't in the driveway. The car, without fail, would be parked in the driveway after their mother, or one of them, used it; none of them parked on the curb, or in any of the neighbors' driveways. After seeing that the car wasn't in the driveway, he turned to look up the street. Had one of his brothers, who had either just returned home or who had been home for a stretch of unknown time, decided to use the car for a quick drive and not closed the door after leaving the apartment? With no deep red Buick Lucerne, a 2011 CX model, which was relatively old and collectible by some who fancied collecting cars, coming down the street he got an answer to that question. Had one or more of his brothers decided to teleport home after encountering some unknown problems with the car, which had been left behind in an unknown location in Lincoln County?

With this latter question on his mind, he took a closer look at the apartment. The regal blue, pin-tuck kitchen drapes, that were on the rod that overlooked the kitchen sink, were drawn; the light blue drapes, that were on the rod that overlooked the living room windows, were also drawn; and so too was the single, blue-green drape that was in front of the little window that was on the apartment's front door. If his brothers were home, they would of opened the drapes; he was quite sure that one or another of them would of had the common sense to close the door after everyone was in the apartment too.

With the atmosphere around the apartment being noted, and after coming to the idea that nothing wrong had happened with the car, he moved the string of fish from his left hand to his right; with his hand newly free of anything, he jabbed it down at the sidewalk before him. A portion of the sidewalk rose; it crumbled then fell away to expose a Don Collins cigar box. He picked the box up, dusted it of the concrete's dust, and of the dirt that covered it, then opened it. All five of the finger knives that he had placed in it for safekeeping were removed and then carefully placed on the hand that nothing was being held in. Once the knives were securely on his person he wiggled his fingers—to ensure that they were on good—then he went towards the apartment.

"Home for the last three hundred and twenty years..." he thought as he went towards the seemingly quiet apartment that he and his family lived in.

It wasn't anything fancy; just your basic upstairs/downstairs apartment that had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a cellar in it. While the shudders and window sills had been painted brown the rest of the apartment had been painted a dark cream color. Their mother, right after finding, and then moving the housing to the county, had notified the county office that she had moved the housing to the county and then had told them that it was located on Forest Hill Dr.; an electrician had come down to wire the apartment up and then the water man had come to connect all of the pipes to the apartment and then someone from the county had come down to inspect both it and the foundation that it had been placed on. His mother, and Bile, had moved in right after everything had been checked over; soon after moving in, they had found themselves as needing to do some internal work on the housing.

He, Hazaar, and Lazeer had just come home from school; a two-week vacation had been in order and they had taken it and, wouldn't you know it but they had used most of that given vacation up on helping their mother and brother fix the apartment up. The floors had been rotten and in need of either some serious repairs or replacing—while Lazeer had done the floor replacing in the living room Bile had done the upstairs bedroom and hallway floor replacing; Hazaar and he had done the kitchen and the second bedroom floor replacing while their mother had done the rest of the floor replacing—and the walls had been in need of either strengthening or to be torn down and then redone from scratch—while Lazeer had had a hand in doing the wall that was between the living room and kitchen they had all had a hand in the other wall replacings that had gone on in the apartment. There had been no front or back door to the place; their mother had purchased both then had done the honors in installing them. Most of the windows had been broken—Hazaar and Lazeer were the ones who had fixed those up—and the yard around the housing had been in need of some serious care.

The front yard had been overgrown with tall, thick grass and some of the most gruesome looking bushes that they had ever seen; Bile and he had done the honors in taking the bushes up—Bile had "stored" the stumps that he had pulled up from the ground until a later date, where they had all been burned at the same time—while he had done the honors of burning the too-tall grass to a much more manageable level and then mowing the rest. Both he and Bile had done weed and dead flower removal after both of them tasks were done. Hazaar and Lazeer had done the backyard; the tall, bushy bushes had either been cut or burned down, the closer-lying trees had been cut down, and the grass had been cut to a much more appropriate height. Their mother had taken care of sturdying the concrete slab that acted as the property's back porch then she had gone to work in taking care of the bigger trees that Hazaar and Lazeer hadn't been able to take down.

In total, they had removed every bit of thirty trees and somewhere around twenty-three bushes; there were still some trees in the backyard that they were working on getting removed.

With the apartment being as old as it was, frequent repairs were needed to be done on it; the water tank and air conditioner had gone out on them several times, the floors and walls had been required to be repaired once every fifty or so years, and the one mattress that had been discovered as still being in the housing was replaced once every year—as were all of the other mattresses, for that matter. After he and his full-siblings had returned home, Hazaar had had a brainy moment in planting an apple tree in the front yard; he had done this without gaining their mother's permission first, which had very nearly cost him his "preciously planted" tree. That tree, to that very day, grew some very fine apples on it; after seeing how good that tree was for them their mother had gone and given Lazeer her blessing on planting his asked-for orange tree in the backyard—like with the apple tree, the orange tree grew some fine oranges on it.

He and his full-siblings hadn't been around when the actual furnishing of the apartment was done; they had been called back to school at the time—their mother had promised to look after them and their interests during the shopping of furnishing items that would go in their rooms. During the two weeks that he, Hazaar, and Lazeer had been home, they had slept in the living room, and they had eaten a lot of restaurant food—they hadn't minded doing either; the event of spending time with their family had been good enough to look over the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and the act of their constantly consuming fast food. The Laz-Y-Boy chair that Bile was a frequent user of had been purchased from Walmart for $50 while the sleeper sofa that their mother slept on had been found at the local dump—it had been cleaned, and quite thoroughly too, before being put in the building. The tv and the entertainment center had also come from Walmart; the tv had cost their mother $35.95 while the entertainment center had cost her $59.98. The larger appliances had all been purchased from one of the local appliance stores—$110.90 for the stove; $65.95 for the washer; $76.98 for the refrigerator; and $67.82 for the dryer... that was what their mother had thrown to get them appliances for the apartment. The smaller appliances—the microwave, coffee pot, the vacuum and carpet cleaner, etc.—had all been purchased from folk who had been holding yard sales. His, Hazaar's, and Lazeer's bed frames had been newly purchased while the frame that Bile slept on had been in the apartment from the get-go; Bile had repaired it to good working order before "slapping" the mattress on it and then calling it a day. The dressers that were owned by Hazaar and Lazeer had cost their mother $45, each; Bile's had come from the dump while his had been purchased from one of their former neighbors for $25. The tables, bookcases, and everything else that was in the apartment had been purchased at a later date; they had either been found at the dump or they had been purchased from someone who had been holding a yard sale.

This was home to all of them; the building before him had been home to them for over three hundred years and, from the looks of it, someone uninvited had walked in.

"And, in all the years that we've been living here, no one has dared to so much as break a window much less use the spare key to get in." he thought as he stopped just before the four steps that ran up to the apartment's open front door.

He decided to keep his fish with him; if he entered the apartment, then encountered someone violent, they, along with the finger knives, would be a useful tool to keep him safe. Slowly, very slowly, he went up the four steps of the front porch then entered the building that he and his family called home; regardless of the place being cold on the inside it still felt the same to him. It still felt like home. Other than the normal, home-like feeling that he was getting there was something else that struck him as odd—there was a violated feeling going on in the apartment that was so thick that he could probably cut through it with his finger knives. This secondary feeling caused his skin to crawl; if he hadn't been wearing pants, or underwear, his pubes, which was the only hair that he had on his body, would probably be standing on end.

He went down the short hallway that led to the stairs that went up to the second level; it was so quiet that he could probably hear a pin drop. With it being so quiet, he decided to make his movements small—so not to attract unwanted attention and so not to make anyone who was still in the house grow alarmed over his presence. He was about to head up the stairs when something caught his eye; swallowing hard, he turned then took in the living room. His eyes came close to popping from their sockets after he did so.

The sleeper sofa was there, as was the Laz-Y-Boy, the tv, and the coffee table; the radiator heater looked to of been moved from its spot near the wall. The empty spaces that were on the entertainment center was what caused him to nearly gasp—the gaming consoles were all gone... there were empty spaces where the Nintendo 64, Super Nintendo, the Atari, and the Playstation systems had been. As if that wasn't bad enough, the door to the cabinet that the games for each of the game systems were kept in was open; it looked like all of the games for their played systems were gone.

"That sucks balls!" the pit of his stomach went cold for a few seconds before growing hot with his fury over his and his brothers' game systems, along with all of their compatible games, all being taken. "Someone made off with the fuckin' game systems but left everything else in the room?"

He went into the kitchen next; while on the way there, his chest started to give him grief. He, who had just realized that he had been holding his breath in, breathed; the ache in his chest went away at once, it was swiftly replaced with shock and confusion a few seconds later.

The kitchen was the same; everything that was suppose to be in it was in it, which he found to be quite strange. When he checked the fridge, he found that everything that had been in it that early morning was still in it; when he checked the cabinets, he found that everything that had been in them that early morning was still in them; when he checked the counter-tops, he found that everything that had been on them that early morning was still on them. When he turned, then started going towards the cellar door, he found himself gripped in such fear that he decided to not open the door or go down to see what was or wasn't still in there. He backed away from the door then he turned to go down the hallway that the downstairs bathroom and the bedroom that Hazaar and Lazeer used was on; just before going down the hall, he stopped to place his string of fish on the kitchen table—with his mind being set in the way that it was this move of his was both automatic and unchecked.

"And, unlike the kitchen, there's things missing on this hallway."

The photographs of him, his brother's, and of their mother were all missing; the walls of this hallway use to be full of photographs... it was just as bare as could be now. When he stopped to look in the downstairs bathroom, he found that it was nearly the same except for one thing—a small section of the floor, that was just before the sink, had been ripped up. He found himself wondering why the bathroom floor had been torn up; someone had obviously come in, and had obviously taken ample advantage of the opportunity to steal what they had, and they had also ripped a section of the bathroom floor up. Why take the entertainment systems, and their compatible games, and the framed pictures of him and his family, and tear up a section of the bathroom floor, but not take the furniture items? He gave the bathroom a second look before going down the hall to his younger brothers' bedroom.

"Mom's going to have a hissy fit when she gets home!" he thought as the anger and confusion bubbled and churned within him. "Bile-O... either you, Hazaar, or Lazeer better start burial plans because, once mom sees what happened after one of you three didn't lock the door after you left here this morning, she's going to be coming after one of you."

It didn't take him very long to note the extreme change that had taken place in his younger brothers' bedroom. Not only was the room's door wide open but the room was also nude of nearly everything that had been in it.

Gone were Lazeer's model planes and dinosaurs. Gone were Hazaar's model trains and spaceships. Gone were the things that had once been on the room's two dressers. Gone were his brothers' posters and... by golly gosh! His younger brothers were going to flip after seeing that their hunting trophies and school-made trophies and plaques were gone. The beds, complete with bedding; the dressers; the single bookcase; and the corner table that his brothers used when they were building a model were all there but everything else was gone.

"Someone is going to get a foot up the ass after mom sees this!" he thought after seeing the state of the room. "Hell, _my_ foot might be going up the ass of whoever left that door unlocked!"

After seeing the state of the downstairs rooms, he went back to where the still-open front door was then made progress to the stairs; just before going up the stairs, he stopped to take in the open-doored closet that was just before the item that would take him to the apartment's second level. It was no surprise to him that all of the coats, and their mother's bags, and the two boxes that had previously been on the shelf that overlooked the closet rod, were missing; his stomach dropped after he saw the naked rod that was in the closet—of the items that had previously been in the closet only the vacuum, the carpet cleaner, the toilet paper, the AC/furnace filters, and the two 4x4 boards remained. When he resumed his trek to the stairs, and then started making his way up to the apartment's second level, he did so quickly and loudly—with himself being as angered and as shocked as he was, doing anything slow and quiet wasn't allowed to be done. At the moment, he was hoping that the one behind the burglary of his and his family's apartment was still inside; he'd love to kick whoever's ass it was who was responsible for taking their stuff and he'd also like to find where it all was.

He wasted little time after reaching the second level of the building; the short hallway that he was on had three doors on it—the one closest to him belonged to the upstairs bathroom while the one that was across from it belonged to the upstairs closet; the one that was at the far end of the hallway belonged to his and Bile's room. He checked the bathroom quickly; unlike the one downstairs this one was fully intact. When he checked the closet, he found that it was in the exact same shape as that of the downstairs closet was in—the rest of his family's coats, the boxes of old photographs and family-made video tapes, the boxes that contained his and Bile's school-made trophies and plaques, and the boxes that contained his mother's clothing were all missing; all he found was a black, blank, empty space.

With them two rooms checked, he made his way to his and his brother's shared bedroom; like with Hazaar's and Lazeer's shared bedroom, their bedroom door was wide open. After reaching the room, he slowly peered inside—there was no way in hell that he was going to just wander in; for all he knew, the one who had done the robbing of his family's things was still inside... and was just waiting to add murder to his list of bad deeds. Once he saw that it was safe, he went into the room fully; his whole entire body went as cold as an ice cube after he did so.

"Ooooooh shiiiiiiit!" he moaned just as loudly as he could. "Raquel Welch! Rita Hayworth! My Christopher Lloyd poster that had Marilyn Monroe hiding behind it... oooohhh shiiiiit!"

Oh, that wasn't all that was missing in the room. All of what had been on the bookcase—the books, the magazines, the whatnots, and the knives—was gone, as were the four models that had once sat on the stump-table. He didn't need to be told that the two models that he had recently purchased were also gone. The dressers were still in the room, as was the stump-table, but everything that had been on them was missing; the beds were still in the room—the bedding that was on his bed was still there and he guessed that his brother's hidden bed was still clothed too. His and his brother's hunting trophies—Bile's Water Buffalo skull and horns and his Moose skull and antlers—had also been taken. When he checked a look under his bed, he saw that his box of magazines was also gone; the contents that had once been in his secret stash were also found to be missing.

R-r-r-r- robbed..." he said in a throaty whisper. "Oh please mommy help me, we've been fuckin' robbed of everything but the furniture!"

He didn't waste any time in turning tail and then fleeing the once full-of-items room that he and his older brother shared. His heart was pounding in his chest, that was how fast he went when he left the room and then went down the hall.

Ka-bam, ka-boom, ka-bam, ka-boom.

Down the hall he went, then down half of the stairs; he had only just reached the middle-portion of the stairs when he put the brakes on.

Ka-thud, ka-thud, ka-thud...

His heart slowed to normal speed for only a second before returning to its former, racing speed. The sound of near-silent footsteps could be heard downstairs and, what's more, he could see a shadow moving about. This shadow danced along the hallway carpet before disappearing; he took a single step down the stairs, then a second, before putting a pause to his descent—while he couldn't be certain of it he thought he heard someone doing the "silent" coughing thing behind his, or her, hand. While keeping his back pressed to the wall that was to the left of the stairs he went down two more steps before putting a permanent stop to his descent; his throat, at the moment in time, was dry, he felt cold and clammy, and his stomach was bouncing all over the place. Was he terrified? You bet your fine damn bottom-dollar he was! Here he was, nearly descended from the apartment's second level, and there were one, maybe two, other people who he didn't know in the living room.

"Someone came home," the croaky voice that belonged to one of the people in the living room said. "There were fish on the kitchen table, and we heard footsteps going upstairs."

"Still inside? Did whoever it was that came in leave? Did you see who it was?" another voice, this one being gravelly, and which sounded eerily familiar, asked.

"No sir," the first voice replied. "As you instructed, the front door was left open. It was still open when I came up to see what was going on."

"Did you close the door?" the second voice asked.

"Yessir,"

And now he was trapped. His level of terror escalated; here he was, on the stairs, and there were two, or more, people in the living room... did they have guns, or other weaponry on their persons? Would a bolt to the front door work, or would he be chancing his life if he decided on doing such a thing? Not only had he come home to find the place burglarized but he had also walked into a finely made trap... that pissed him off as much as it scared him.

What could he do? Could he rush back upstairs, then run to his and Bile's bedroom? Could the door to his and Bile's shared bedroom be closed fast enough, then locked, and could he possibly make it to the window, then open the window, then jump out before the ones who were in the apartment got to him? The trouble for his jumping through the one window that was on the apartment's second level may cause him to get some scrapes and bruises, and maybe a broken bone or two, but it'd make him go from being trapped to not being trapped.

He had done three stupid moves since coming home: one, he had left the fish that he had caught on the kitchen table; two, he had been loud in going up the stairs; and three, he hadn't thought about placing a call to either his mother or to one of his brothers. A call to them, to see if they were really at home or not, would of told him that something was up and it would of also warned him to not step foot in the apartment until the cops came down to see what was up.

Whoever it was that was in the living room had obviously come out from his, or her, hiding space after hearing his loud ascent up the stairs; the fish had been seen, and then claimed from the table, and then taken to the other person who was in the living room. The door had been silently closed sometime after his ascent to the apartment's second level, and his checking out the upstairs closet, bathroom, and bedroom, was done.

His knees shook; all color in the building washed out as he came close to both hurling and collapsing. At the last possible second, he prevented both the vomit from coming up and his legs from giving out on him. After gaining control of himself again he turned then slowly went up the stairs. He had just achieved two of the ten-present steps when he stopped.

"You're not a kid anymore! You're twenty-one hundred years old and you have enough power to wield off any attacker." his conscious told him. "You have a hunting knife in your bag, and a set of finger knives on the fingers of your left hand... this is your place so why the hell are you being so scared and why are you thinking about escaping it?"

His mother would not want him to be in any danger and neither would any of his brothers; he was a mid-teenage boy... while he was strong and powerful he was also still a kid—if the two, or more, in the living room were grown men, and were armed, and if he wasn't fast in either getting out of the apartment or defending himself he could be seriously hurt if not killed.

With this in mind, he resumed his trek to the building's second floor. He went up two more steps, then was in the process of going up another when he stopped; he started to wonder where the ones in the living room had been hiding. He had checked everything in the house. The living room; the hallway that came off the foyer; the kitchen; the hallway that came off the kitchen; the two closets and bathrooms... he had even checked the cellar—

"No you didn't!" his conscious screamed at him. "You got cold feet before reaching for the door... you decided to forgo going in there, remember?"

And so he had and so it looked like his bout of fear in not opening the cellar door, and then going down into the cellar, was what had kept him from either being killed or captured by whoever it was that had been hiding in it. Anger rushed over him after he realized that he had made two other mistakes; he had sent the items from his deer kill, and then the turkey that he had claimed, to the cellar—the ones who had been in the cellar had seen the items and then had put two-and-two together on his upcoming return home.

"If they had been down there then why hadn't they come out to grab me after I was in the apartment? Why did they wait to come out until after I was upstairs?" he wondered.

And, with this, he decided to use one of the learned moves that he had been taught when he had been a student at the University of Telepathy; he placed his hands flat on the wall, then breathed in deeply, then started getting the information that he needed—it didn't matter if it was living or not; anything retained memories and he was about to find out what had happened in the apartment by reading its memory of the events that had happened over the last couple of hours.

"I think that was one of the best meals that I've had since moving out on my own." Gracie said right when her date's brother was starting to gain the information that he wanted to get from his and his family's lived-in apartment. "Who taught you how to cook? Did you learn on your own or—"

"My mother—she's a fine cook. Like with so many other things, she taught me and my brothers well on how to use a stove." Bile replied.

"She must be commended then—raised four boys on her own and taught them how to cook."

Bile smiled at the compliment, and acknowledgement, of his mother's cooking and of her teaching him and his brothers how to cook. Some men were sloppy cooks; when they worked a stove, they put little to no effort in on what they were making. They just made it then ate it then went on with their day—either a bout of indigestion or food poisoning would come knocking on their door sometime after the latest meal was consumed for them types of male cookers. The men who put a little more effort in on their cooking were low in numbers them days while the men who put a better than grand effort in on their culinary skills were nearly extinct; wouldn't you know it but the men who were the latter of them three groups tended to be better than fine partners.

After around an hour to an hour and a half's worth of fun on the couch, he had simply lay low, with Gracie still on him and with him still being in her. About ten or so minutes after their ordeal was done, he had gently pushed her from him, then had removed himself from her, then had started the process of taking his clothes up from the floor and then re-dressing himself. The pair of brown pants and socks that he had worn had been put on, then his shoes had been slid on; he had only just taken his winter wears up from the floor and then placed them on the couch's arm when he noticed that his shirt was missing. After two seconds of searching, he had found it—Gracie, who had yet to dress herself, had taken it up and then placed it on herself. He had taken one look at her before smiling; instead of demanding for the shirt to be given back to him he had let her keep it—to him, the act of a man allowing a woman to have and then wear his shirt after their deed was done was a good way of one being gentlemanly... and it also showed well that he cared about his date's feelings.

After getting himself dressed, he had wandered into Gracie's kitchen; her fridge had been raided soon after the general look-around was done. A pack of hotdogs, a few meat patties, two things of pork chops, a slice of ham, and three steaks had been in the freezer part of the refrigerator—two things of banana-flavored ice cream, a roll of sausage, a thing of bacon, and a pack of ribs had also been in the fridge's freezer compartment; after seeing the three steaks, he had taken no interest in anything else. Why a single-living woman needed three grill-sized steaks was beyond him but, yeah, once he had seen them three steaks he had decided to take two of them out and then cook them—both he and Gracie had just gotten through with doing a rigorous work-out so they had needed the protein; with this in mind, he had also made the two of them a side of two eggs a-piece.

While Gracie hadn't been a top-notch lover she had been decent enough to satisfy him; he had felt very relieved to have his itch for sex taken care of and he was quite sure that she had been very satisfied at the end of their ordeal.

After throwing the steaks on the stove, then adding a touch of seasoning to them, then placing the four eggs in the same skillet that they had been cooked in, he had grabbed two plates from the cabinet that contained the dishware, and then two forks and knives out from the drawer that the silverware was in; while consuming his meal he had listened to his date, who had just then decided to "introduce" him to her pets. The older of her two cats was called Felix, he was one of them oddball, hairless breeds that was called a Sphynx, while the younger of her cats was called Jam—he was just six months of age and he was a Siamese. Why his date had decided to pin the name Jam on the younger of her two cats he didn't know; the hamster that she owned, who's name was Brutus, was not a hamster. Not only was the thing twice as big as the animal that she claimed it was but it also had a long tail—to his knowledge, hamsters were either tailless or had small stubs for tails. She had this thing in a cage big enough to house a rabbit; it had a wheel, a water bottle, a ceramic dish that acted as its food bowl, more than two tunnels, and a hammock in its lived-in environment. Honestly, if he had to place a name to this animal, he'd say that it was either a Degu or a type of huge Gerbil.

After consuming their meal, then squaring away their dishes, he chanced a look at the room's hanging wall-clock; he was shocked after seeing that it was heading on 3:20. Not only had he missed meeting his younger brothers for lunch but he, and they, were late for returning home.

With the time noted, he said his goodbyes, then explained the reason to why he had to leave so soon after eating, then grabbed his coat, then left the apartment. He left his shirt behind; he had more than a dozen like what he had left behind and, besides, what did it cost to get a new one anyways? A dollar to two dollars for a single pack of three shirts that were 2X large—he wore nothing fancy or overly expensive; he preferred to keep it simple over elegant and expensive.

"Hazaar... Lazeer... you still alive out there?" after driving five miles from his now former date's residence he had taken his communicator up from its place on his belt and then held it to his lips. This action of his caused him to swerve into the lane that was beside the one that he was in.

"No! We froze to death a few hours ago." Hazaar's tough-sounding voice came through his communicator loud and clear. "Lazeer's nuts flew north for the winter; he's decided to become a woman now."

"Very funny, I'm on my way to get you two." Bile said. "Be ready to hop in; I'm teleporting the car, and us, to the start of the tunnel that's near Green River right after you two are inside."

He sped through two red lights, then came close to clipping the bumper of a Lamobgu Mercedes—one of the newer model cars that looked like it had come out of a nightmare instead of a car manufacturing plant—, then made a hard right turn.

What the hell had his younger brothers done in his absence? Had they shopped, or done anything useful with their time, or had they just sat, or stood, around fighting one another? He cursed himself for losing track of the time; not only had he gone to Gracie's place at around noon but he had also forgotten about his two, younger brothers. A woman had thrown him a curve-ball; he had been side-tracked by sex... a member of the opposite sex had pulled him away from his younger brothers, one, of which, who had an eye ailment that caused him to not be able to be out and about when the sun wasn't covered. Had they eaten anything? Oh shit! He had gone off with a woman... had abandoned his brothers at lunchtime... they were probably half-starved!

With this thought in mind, he pulled over at a restaurant called N'Do'Nuts; he had ten dollars on him, which he used to get three espressos and then a box of nine donuts. With this purchased, he exited the store then went to the car; the items that he had just gotten through purchasing were either placed between the driver's and passenger seat or in one of the two available cup holders—the third espresso was placed between his legs. After starting the car up, then driving away from the store, he checked his communicator; it, like all of the others that were made and then sold to the general, non-Milky Way Galaxy public, had a locator on it that would tell him where his final contact had been at the time of their last correspondence. Upon checking his communicator, he noted that they were five miles from where he was—with their now being know to be around the corner from him, he slowed down. It took just two turns, then a single stretch of long road, before he finally reached the location that his communicator had said they were in.

"What the hell..." Bile exclaimed after finding his two brothers, then noting that the both of them had what looked to be five or six bags on their persons. "You two went crazy on the shopping, didn't you?"

"What the hell happened to your shirt? Did you get hungry and eat it or did your latest lover steal it?" Lazeer asked after getting into the car and then getting himself situated. Instead of taking the front passenger seat, he had decided to take up the two, back passenger seats.

"Left it as a souvenir at my latest girlfriend's place." Bile replied.

"Bet she burned it after you left." Lazeer said.

"She was wearing it when I left her place."

"Got her name? Number? Address?" Hazaar asked. "Everything that you'll need for when, after the baby's dropped on our doorstep, you can return it?"

"Shut your face you twerp." Bile replied. He smiled regardless of saying this; with his brothers now being in the car, he pointed at the donuts and espressos. "Enjoy yourselves."

"You say for me to shut my face then you offer donuts and espressos." Hazaar said as he took one of the espressos up from the car's cup holders. "You should of said stuff your face instead."

"Did I hear the word donut?" Lazeer's head appeared above the backs of the driver's and front passenger seats; after hearing the word donut, then seeing Hazaar gesture at what was in the remaining cup holder, and then at the box of donuts that were in front of the car's dual cup holders, he reached his arm over the seats. He took the lone-remaining espresso up from its cup holder then he took a strawberry-filled donut out from the box. "Thanks Bro!"

It had taken him all of thirty minutes to get over the pain that Hazaar had caused him to go through; his groin had throbbed and his balls had just about felt as if they were going to explode... the pain had been that damn bad for him. At around the fifteen minute mark, he had chanced the move in getting to his feet; after taking around two, leg-shaky trips around the alley that he and his brother had been in he had gone to retrieve his bags—any and all misgivings felt between he and his brother had been forgiven and then forgotten; he had simply knocked his fist into his shoulder and then given him half of the money that he had had on him. They had gone shopping right after he had gotten over the full of his pains.

For him, his purchases had consisted of two magazines and then two models—one being of a McDonnell Douglas F-4 Phantom II and the other being of a three-headed dragon. There was an armature, a wad of clay, and more than four jars of paint in the dragon model's box; he had plans to really deck this model out—he wanted it to look similar to the form that his mother took on when she decided to use her Transformative powers to go from being her true self into being a dragon. Hazaar had gotten himself several magazines; the watch that he had purchased had cost him $25 while the model that he had gotten had cost him $15. The model that his brother had purchased for himself was what he called a surprise buy; the picture that was on the box showed a weird, but cool as shit, hybrid animal—the head and neck was like that of an Eagle while the arms, body, and legs were definitely Tyrannosaur in origin; the tail and wings were bat-like in origin. The wording on the box said that the animal was _the most fierce creature that had ever flown the skies; the Tyranaglat is the most fearsome of all flying animals_.

After most of the bulk of their purchases were done he had found himself as having $10 left of what he had previously had on him; he had used this to get Lhaklar something. The 1939 Chevy Coupe Lowrider that was in one of his bags was for his older full-brother; even though that had taken all of his money he had been fine with spending what he had had on him and he had also been very happy with his purchases. Hazaar had been a little more richer than he at that point in their shopping; with $30 on his person, he had been able to purchase Bile more than two things. There were two knife-related magazines in one of Hazaar's bags and there was also a nifty skull-like thing, that was designed to look more like a brain than a skull, in one of his bags too.

Not a thing had been eaten, and neither of them had thought about using five or so dollars of their money to get something to eat; they were more than flattered to see that Big Bro Bile had "serviced" them with donuts and espressos.

"Got you this, Bro." Hazaar said after taking a sip from his espresso, then eating about half of a jelly glazed donut. He reached into the one bag of his, that had the words Spencer's Gifts on both its front and back; the brain-designed skull was removed and then shown to his brother, who was doing his best to pay attention to both the road and to him.

"Holy shit! That looks freakin' awesome!" Bile exclaimed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I also got you some magazines."

"Who's treating who now? I leave you two behind in the cold and you've got me gifts." Bile said. "Thank you."

"Lazeer had to use his drops once." Hazaar admitted. "The sun came out and—"

"Yeah yeah—expose the misfortune of my day will ya?" Lazeer sniffed. "Hazaar gave me a kick between the legs; at the time that I was up and walking around, the sun came out. I wasn't under cover—you know the rest of what happened after that happened."

Bile gave Hazaar a sharp look; he glared him him for only a second before turning to look back at the road. The three of them felt a characteristic zapping feeling, then they heard the car around them giving off the sounds that a tv would give off when it was in static-mode a short two seconds later; the next thing that they knew was that they were driving away from the mouth of the tunnel that ran onto a stretch of road that led straight into Green River. With the act of teleporting them from Nordic to their lived-in town complete, Bile gave his head a shake; the things that his younger brothers did as a way to give one or the other of them a sort of payback for a misdone deed.

Hazaar, after the teleportation from Point A to Point B was complete, explained the reason to why he had assaulted their younger brother's groin; according to him, Lazeer had leaped out of nowhere to spook him. He had fallen into a ditch and then he had gotten mad enough to chase after and then pick a fight with him. When he chanced a look at Lazeer, he did see the tell-all signs of a fight having occurred between him and Hazaar; Lazeer's right cheek was a bruised up mess, his lower lip had a slit in it, and there were around six or so closed-off cuts around his chin, forehead, and left cheek. To him, Lazeer's groin-based injury was the worst injury that he had sustained in the fight.

Lazeer took up from where Hazaar stopped in giving out an explanation as to what all had happened between them during his absence. He claimed that most of the money that he and Hazaar had used during their second round of shopping had come from the women that he had decided to slip a few bills from; $35 of what had been split between he and Hazaar had actually been what he had had on his person before deciding to lift some cash from the ladies of the bus depot. The money had just been split and then given over when the sun decided to come out from behind the clouds; with his not knowing, or being prepared, for that to happen he had been in direct line of contact with the very thing that his left eye was sensitive to. The claim of Hazaar helping him with the task of getting to a shaded area of the alley was given credence to by Hazaar, as was the claim of Hazaar helping him in getting the drops from his coat pocket. Once the sun had gone to being hidden behind the clouds again they had left the alley and then started shopping.

"Can you two be anymore immature?" Bile asked after all of the daily events explaining was done. "A kick to the nuts is not something that one wants to go through, Hazaar."

"He pissed me off."

"So what, what he did didn't call for any abuse of the sacred sack."

"You've knee'd Lhaklar and me in the nuts several times." Hazaar pointed out.

"Yeah, I have, but that doesn't mean that it's a-okay to do. What I did I didn't mean to do—I wasn't paying attention to my rough housing and you damn well know it." Bile replied.

"Check the mail in the coming days—my balls will be sending you a thank-you postcard for your generously given concern." Lazeer said.

"Tell them nuts of yours thanks but no thanks—I don't need nor want any nutsy postcards coming my way." Bile replied. "A magazine—you know my preference—or a photograph of a lovely, near-naked woman will be fine enough."

"Haven't you had enough of women for a while?" Lazeer asked. "Aren't your tits freezing?"

"I'm naturally heated Little Brother." Bile replied.

"In one of the stores that we went into Lazeer got to look down a woman's shirt." Hazaar blurted.

"Oh yeah, see anything good?" Bile glanced at his youngest brother for only a second before returning to facing forward again.

"Some nice mountains, Big Bro." Lazeer replied. "She let me see them—I was buying mom a gift... she just leaned over the counter right when I was paying for what I got for her. Not only did she show me her mountains but she also did quite a bit of flirting with me."

"When you get your glass, make sure that you set up a territory of your own." Bile said while sustaining the chuckle that wanted to come out. "Can't have you hoggin' all my ladies and I definitely don't want to be funning around with a woman after you've had a go with her."

"Gross! I'll set up shop in Nordic. There's not only plenty there but it seems that all who walk the city are finer than fine." Lazeer commented.

Hazaar ate two more donuts before deciding to leave the rest; Lazeer ate another donut before going on to consuming his espresso; Bile ate two donuts before deciding to pull over to retrieve the things that were in the trunk of the car. After his bags were safely in the back passenger seat, and with himself behind the wheel again, he turned his attention to the radio; the station that Gracie had decided to listen to while on the drive back to her apartment was playing a series of chick-tunes so he was fast in asking Hazaar to dig one of the music discs that were in his bag out and then insert it into the car's stereo system. They listened to four of the songs that were on the Motley Crue Theatre of Pain disc in complete silence. Hazaar slid his brother's music-containing bag into one of his shopping bags then went back to drinking his espresso.

The trip that he had taken in going to retrieve his purchases from the car's trunk had cost him a little; with his shirt being in Alpine, probably still being worn by his latest female companion, and with his coat not being zipped, he had gotten cold during the time that he had been out of the car. He took three, big gulps from his espresso before putting it in one of the car's cup holders; there was a twenty minute period before them now before they'd reach home. With the day's events—his shopping, then his partaking in a female companion, and then his having a near heart attack after noticing that he had forgotten all about Hazaar and Lazeer—now past him he had a mind to slip into bed and then take a few hour nap after getting home. He was exhausted—as if to confirm this, he held his left arm up then yawned into it.

"Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

His heart was beating frantically in his chest; with all that he had seen that had happened in the apartment earlier that day he thought that its action was correctly done. At the moment, he was so freaked out that he was near to willing to take to his heels—the thought of locking himself in his and Bile's shared bedroom and then partaking in a little faithful jumping through the room's one window didn't seem all that bad to him right now.

What he had seen had given his system a good jolting; his father, along with four Goblins, had entered the apartment by using a spell to make the locked door become unlocked. After coming in, then taking the place in, his father had given the order for his henchmen to quit standing around and to go to work in collecting everything but the furniture items. While the Goblins had been removing their gloves, and then taking their wands out, his father had been going from room to room; he had checked each and every room out before deciding to take up the kitchen. His cellular had been removed from one of his coat pockets and then used right after he had taken a seat at the table—the chair that he had taken to sit in had, ironically, been the one that his mother would sit in during meal-hour.

There had been a lot of blue lights going off from each of the wands that the four Goblins had been using; all of their things had been spell-sent from the apartment to, he presumed, his father's place on Moas. His father, for all of fifteen or twenty minutes, had remained in the kitchen before moving into the living room, where he had taken up residency in the Laz-Y-Boy chair. The man had only gone upstairs after hearing one of his henchmen calling for him; apparently, his Christopher Lloyd poster, with the photograph turned poster of a naked Marilyn Monroe on the back, had fallen to his bed during the Goblins' activities of cleaning his and Bile's room out of their possessions. The Goblin who had called for his father had asked if the two posters were also desired to be removed from the property; he had done the same for Bile's posters of Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch. His father had hesitated in making a decision on the posters before saying for all of them to be sent to the location where all of his family's other stuff was being sent to; after saying this, then after watching the four posters be sent away, he had gone down to the kitchen. The bastard had raided the fridge for a glass of milk, which he had just sat and looked at.

About ten or so minutes of milk staring, and hand staring, had happened before he had gotten up and then started aiding the Goblins in their given task; instead of going to Hazaar's and Lazeer's bedroom, and then robbing them of their things, he had gone down to the cellar.

Most of what was down in the cellar had been left behind; it was just Bile's torches that had been sent to whatever location his father was sending all of their stuff to—his father, just before sending them to their unknown location, had said something around thinking that they were special. So the torches were special, but so was the other stuff that was down in the cellar. He felt a trifle bit offended by the action of the torches only being given "special" attention and not the weights or dumbbells. After sending the torches away, then checking the washer and dryer of clothes, his father had come up and then called for one of the Goblins—a man by the name of Losal had been given the order to go back to camp; six members of his father's military had been requested to be retrieved. The man had done as he had been told to; after twenty-five minutes of being away from the apartment, he had returned with the six-ordered militants and with two others that he hadn't been sent to retrieve.

Apparently, after seeing all of the commotion going on between Mr. Losal and the six military Goblins, his paternal step-grandfather and his oldest son had decided to check into things. Since everything had all but been sent away, neither of the two men had been required to lend any assistance in robbing the apartment of its material things; his father had given the order for everyone in his group to head down to the cellar and then to just lay low until one or more of his family returned home. Really, after moving down to the cellar, all his father had done was light a fire and then stand by—the collected parts from his deer, and his turkey, had just about made four of the Goblins leap for the stars; none of them had expected for anything to appear in the cellar or, in the case of the things that he had collected from his deer kill, had expected for anything to appear and then go plop after gravity took over in carrying it to the cellar's floor. His father had been quick in investigating what had been sent to the cellar; after seeing what it all was, he had personally spell-sent it to, he presumed, the same location that everything else had been sent to.

His assumption of it being his loud ascent up the stairs that had alerted everyone to his presence being in the apartment was correct; a Goblin named Rog Deruno had come out from the cellar slowly then, after noticing the string of fish that he had foolishly left on the kitchen table, he had taken it up and then gone to where the front door was. The door had been closed then the man had gone back to report his findings; the fish had been given the same treatment as most of the other items that had once been in the apartment—away to unknown land they had gone.

That was just great... just fucking gah-reat! Come home after a fine day to find your home burglarized by your father; the man who fathered you not only takes most of what you own but also sends your hunt and then your fish to the same unknown location that everything else had been sent to. The man, after sending the fish away, had left the cellar; the Goblins had followed with granddad Cheshire and uncle Efagti following on their heels. Two of the Goblins had been ordered to guard the back door; two more had been ordered to stand in the hallway that Hazaar and Lazeer's shared room was on; while everyone else was waiting in the living room. His father... oh that ballsy bastard was sitting in the Laz-Y-Boy, which he had just so turned around to face where the stairs began and where, if he hadn't seen the shadow, or heard someone talking, he'd of seen him after he finished his descent from upstairs.

That would of been very fine and dandy for his father! Job well done bucks; we have one now just to wait for the rest. Fine day just went for bust; he had danced his ass off, had made lots of money, most of which was needed for Lazeer's goggled glass, and then done some hunting and fishing, and then returned home to find this as happening. He was so scared over what was going on that he was near to letting a yellow river roll down his leg.

He looked at his finger knives; they were long, and sharp, and very well polished—he could use them but... but what if one of the Goblins had a gun on them? Would his father let one of his Goblins shoot at him? Was it just one of them lunge, grab, then bind the hands and feet operations that his father had in mind or... He looked at the brown bag that's strap was still clamped in his right hand; along with the loin cloth that he had worn when he had danced in them three clubs he also had his hunter's outfit and a hunting knife in it—his bag was heavy, so he could well use it as a weapon as well. He could swing it, knock a Goblin or two off their feet, then race upstairs to his and Bile's shared room; the door would be slammed shut then he would run to the window, then climb out, then jump down to the ground—and hopefully not get but so badly injured in the process. He had his communicator on him; he could contact his mother and brothers after escaping the apartment. He could warn them about what was going on, so they'd not walk in on the trap that had been so carefully laid for them. If any of them things didn't work then he'd just settle on using his powers and then trying to make a quick, but very loud, exit—which would hopefully attract a lot of attention from the ones who lived around him and his family.

With all of this in mind, he took two, silent, steps back. He had just taken a third when he turned around. Another step was gained right when his father called out for him.

"Which of my boys is that? Bile? Lhaklar? Hazaar?"

He froze in mid-step; the blood running through his veins slowed up, he very nearly lost his bladder, and his body shook violently for a second or two before returning to being still. In all, it took him ten seconds to get control of himself; upon gaining control of himself he turned around then decided to go for broke in trying to make it out of the apartment the normal way—either way, he had a feeling that he was to get out of the building some way. After turning around, then giving his shoulders a shake, he started his descent down the stairs; just before exposing who he was, he shoved his weapon-wielding left hand into his coat—if anything happened, he didn't want anyone to know what he had on him. If any sort of ruckus started, he wanted to throw a few surprises—having a concealed weapon on him was a good way to do so.

Each step that he took felt like a mile; he felt as if his feet were boulders, and, thanks to his holding his breath in, his chest was as tight as could be. Upon reaching the last step of the stairs he stopped. He let the breath that he was holding in out then he did nothing more than breathe silently—with the situation being as it was, he needed to be in total control of himself; not only was his safety at risk but so was his family's. When he felt himself in full control again he took that last step; he felt as light as a feather after exiting the stairs and then coming into view of his father.

"And, just as my Telepathy showed, there he is." he thought after turning to look at his father, who was still seated, all cozy-like, in the Laz-Y-Boy chair.

At first, he thought that the man was wearing nothing but black; the black wool overcoat was long and was pulled around him tight. Only when the man stood did he seen the outfit that he seemed to have a fancy for wearing. The burgundy tuxedo jacket had a tail on it that reached down to the floor; the white, button down, long sleeve shirt had belled cuffs on its ends; the vest was a little darker burgundy color, and it had matching ties on it to boot; the silk cravat tie was a crisp white color; the pants were held up by a black belt; and the burgundy-colored shoes were just as buffed up as could be.

The Goblins, granddad Cheshire, and uncle Efagti stood behind him; eight strong, with his father making the official tally being nine. Most of the Goblins that were standing behind his father had some of the meanest looks on their faces—they looked about ready to go to bloody damn war! After noting that two of the six Goblins wore tuxedos he put two-and-two together on who the mean-looking Goblins were—they were from his father's military. Did any of the militant Goblins have any weapons—guns or anything else with which to make him bleed—on them? He gave the Goblins who were wearing army fatigues a short, close look before turning his attention to his father, who had since taken two steps towards him.

"If you have any weapons on your person you best just toss them," his father said. "You're very outnumbered here and don't you forget that I am your father."

"Thirteen to one... yes I would say that I'm pretty outnumbered here." Lhaklar said.

"Apparently, when you went to the University of Telepathy, you learned well on how to use the wall of a building to gain the memory of what happened in it." his father said while giving his head a quick nod.

"Thief."

"Oh now, watch yourself." TazirVile took a step towards his son before stopping and then turning halfway around. "Nothing of yours has been stolen... but we might need to talk of the posters."

"My mother will be pretty jealous after hearing that you got a boner after looking at them." Lhaklar said. Efagti uttered a gasp while everyone else remained just as quiet as could be.

"Whose posters were they? The one that has the fully naked girl on it might not get a chance to be put up—she is a bit extreme and all three..." TazirVile cleared his throat before putting a change to what he had just said. "pardon, four of you are much too young to be seeing that."

"The Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch posters were Bile's and—"

"Who's Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch?"

"The poster of the woman who was on the bed is Rita Hayworth; the one that has the woman wearing a bikini on it is Raquel Welch."

"Ah, so those are Bile's?" TazirVile gave his head a slight nod. "And who owns the one hiding behind the big, bald man?"

"Me."

"Ah, well you might not be allowed to keep that one. Who's the man?"

"Christopher Lloyd; the poster is of one of the characters that he portrayed in one of his movies." Lhaklar replied.

"Take one more step towards the door and there will be a problem, Young Man."

Okay... yes he had taken a few steps towards the front door during his and his father's verbal exchange; all the while he had been taking them few steps he had been telling himself that he'd be noticed, which had just been proven to be very true.

With his intention in trying to make an escape now known he stood still; while his father said a few things pertaining to the items that had been taken he said not a word or made a sound. The old man was on the fence on what to do about the mass amount of pornographic magazines—Bile's Hustler, his High Society, and Hazaar's Playboy—that he had found while he was adamant on getting rid of the cigarettes that he had found. The man was not happy over the cigarette discovery—apparently, the Goblins had found Hazaar's little stash, which, he was surprised to find out, was hiding in plain view in his top dresser drawer, and his mattress stash, and the few bags of pot that Bile had stashed away behind his dresser; when he father started in on him about the discovery of the smokes, he detected the use of two languages. While he had taken a few language courses during his Pronghorn and then University of Telepathy days he hadn't taken the languages that his father was speaking, so he wasn't able to decipher what was being said—judging by how tempered his father's voice was, he pinned the word angry on him over the discovery of the smokes.

During the raiding of his little brothers' room, one of the Goblins had found a few empty bottles that were lacking their tags. This Goblin had shown his father this discovery so now his father was under the assumption that one or more of them were on drugs—he had a fight on his hands to not laugh at this assumption; while none of them were on drugs Lazeer was one who liked to tear the tags from the bottles of medicated eye drops that were either purchased from one of Green River's convenience stores or that had been given to him after he had been taken to see one of the Zeta Reticuli optometrists. The man was getting on him, and his brothers, for something that they didn't do nor would ever do.

"So, who was it that had the model cars upstairs?" his father asked after concluding his outburst and get-on sessions.

"Me,"

"Ah, so you've kept an interest in vehicles then."

"Course—prefer the older model cars to the over-balanced ones that are being driven now." Lhaklar replied.

"Take it that one of you boys has an interest in trains—which one of you is?"

"Hazaar,"

"I take it that the Reezal boy is the one who built and owns the model planes, dinosaurs, and spaceships that were found in the downstairs bedroom?"

"No." he said. With the situation being what it was, he didn't emphasize on who it was that had built, and owned, the spaceship models. He was able to comment on Bile's collecting interest but he wasn't able to say a thing on it being Hazaar who liked building model trains and spaceships. "Bile had the knives."

"We'll get the rest worked out after you and your brothers, and your mother, are on my ship and are then headed for home." his father said.

The events of what happened next went by so fast that he was barely able to place them in order; his father had come towards him, then had placed his hand on the arm that's hand was concealed in his shirt, then he had exposed the secret that he was hiding. His left hand was whipped out from his coat, the finger knives glistened in the mid-afternoon sunshine, which was now seeping through the door's window, which, thanks to the curtain being pulled to the side ever so slightly, had become exposed, then they slashed forward and then to the side.

One swipe. One yell. He was running for his life afterwards.

His father, right after being caught on the arm, right above the elbow, yelled then jumped back; his greenish colored blood splashed the wall and carpet of the living room while he made his getaway. He, after running into the living room, had swiped his finger knives three times; granddad Cheshire was caught low on the right arm while uncle Efagti was caught on the back. The third swipe went towards one of the Goblins—this fellow, who was wearing a tuxedo instead of fatigues, was jabbed in the shoulder. He ran into the kitchen, and then into the hallway that the back door was on; the two Goblins that were guarding the hallway were jumped over while the ones that were guarding the door were simply plowed into.

He slammed his shoulder into the door hard enough to cause a fracture; the lock on the door was twisted, then the latch was undone, then the door was opened. He was scot-free for all of two seconds before feeling a hand land on his shoulder; without a second to spare, he put the brakes on then turned to face the one who had grabbed him—the face of his father, who had been a mere four or five feet behind him all during his plight from the apartment, wasn't only laced with a dangerous anger but there were also trace elements of disgust present too.

"You are going to pay dearly for that one, Young Man!" his father said after he stopped.

"Really? Chew on this next one!"

Again, the shoulder than he had used to slam into the back door was used—this time he used it to knock his father temporarily off balance. With his father dancing on his heels, he raised his finger knife-leaden left hand then slashed it; his father's left shoulder joined the arm that was attached to it in being injured not long after his weapon was used.

His father's black, wool overcoat ripped; his greenish colored blood spat out on the concrete slab that rested up against the apartment; a yell escaped his father before a hand was reached up to examine the injury that had been inflicted on the body of its possessor. He wasted no time in waiting to see what was to happen next; when the sound of someone coming down the hallway was heard, he turned then tore off. He went around the apartment unscathed then, when he heard the sound of someone pursuing him, he held his left hand out—the knives weren't only good weapons to use when one was defending himself but they were also good mirrors. He saw that there were four Goblins running after him and he also saw good, ol' Uncle Efagti.

His bag was causing him to be slower than usual so he tossed it to the side; it seemed that he had no more done so when he found that the gap between he and his uncle was being closed. His legs had only just been untangled, and he had only just started adding some speed to his run, when his uncle decided to make his move; at one second, he was five to six yards from him, and in the next he was directly beside him and placing his hand on his arm. With a simple jerk of his arm, he sent his uncle to the asphalt—the punch given to his uncle had been strong; he bet the man had seen more than a few stars after having his mint-green fist collide with his jaw.

With the Goblins being a distance from him, and with his uncle playing asphalt-kiss, he made it to Peacock Dr. unhindered. He had just made the turn onto Reveler's Ct. when the sound of someone following him was heard; like with the last time, he used his finger knives to see who it was that was following him. To his complete disbelief, he saw that it was his father who was coming for him—not only was he really going but he was also closing the gap between them and fast. He kept a good eye on how much distance there was between them before making a move in stopping and then jerking himself around; his father, who was just two yards from him, was slashed at again—unlike the last time, where he had caught both fabric and flesh, he caught nothing but air. A mini-brawl between father and son ensued for a few seconds before he tried again with his finger-contained weapon; not only did his father jump back but he also swiped his own hand at him—he watched for only a second as the thumb and pinky finger knife were sent flying before taking off.

Just before running off in the direction of the county dump, he dodged a punch and then swung his remaining finger knives; his father howled after one of the knives sliced a better than decent cut on his inner leg then he dropped one of his hands to the injured limb to give it a quick examining. He took advantage of this by running—and it was a good thing that he had done so because, at the precise moment that the leg-based wound was inflicted on his father, three Goblins, granddad Cheshire, and Uncle Efagti ran into view.

"Bile?" Hazaar asked. The car had suddenly been stopped; his brother was doing nothing more than staring at the windshield in a daze. "Bile, you okay?"

"Did we stop? I don't feel the car being driven."

They were about ten or so minutes from home; the sun had come out so he, on instinct, had ducked down to being behind the seats. He felt like an idiot. The feeling of his being like one of them moles, who were both blind and ground-dwelling, was very strong right now. Here he was, doing his age-old habit of hiding from the sun... his old and still current nemesis. Lazeer sighed; from what he had been told, they were about ten or so miles from home and, from what he could feel, the car had been pulled to a complete stop.

Hazaar was still in the front passenger seat; he could hear him asking their brother if he was okay. Bile wasn't answering any of his continually asked question, which was making both he and Hazaar nervous. His older brother only did the pull over and then become as quiet as a mouse thing when he entered a sort of trance... and that usually only happened when a certain danger was going on. Whenever this happened, he became someone other than himself; he mumbled, he shook, he blinked or squinted his eyes, and then he either got violent or anxious

Lazeer, in an attempt to gain his older brother's attention, knocked his elbows back against the back of the driver's seat. When his elbow knocking had no effect, he turned around then started kicking his feet into the seat.

"Wa...uh...ile...!"

His little brother's pleading came to him distantly; he heard it but it was like Lazeer was under water. Something was wrong; he knew it, he felt it, and he didn't much like it.

Bile looked out the window slowly; the sky was clearing up... Lazeer would probably be in need of one of their coats after they got home. He could see it now... Hazaar, or he, would give Lazeer their coat and then watch as he did the run and then stumble routine from the car to the overhang that was over the apartment's front door. He hated how the weather had suddenly changed and he hated how the weatherman had fibbed in not getting the weather right; he had said that the sun would come out from behind the clouds for a short duration of time before going back into hiding, he hadn't said that it'd come out and then stay out after the dials on the clocks struck 3:40.

He didn't know what was going on; he felt that something was amiss but he didn't know what it was that was amiss. Right after getting that something's-amiss-feeling he had pulled over and then removed the key from the ignition; this feeling wasn't going away and he was growing increasingly alarmed by it. His mother was probably at home now; she, and maybe Lhaklar, had already gotten unwound from their day and were probably wondering where they were—despite wanting to go home, to be with one or the other of them, and then partake in the nap that he wanted to take, he couldn't move from where he was. His mother had said three o'clock; with he and his younger brothers being forty minutes late in returning home she may just be angry at them for their tardiness.

What was this feeling that he was getting? Had something been encountered by Lhaklar; was Lhaklar in danger, or was he sitting at home, waiting to see the fireworks explode after he, Hazaar, and Lazeer walked in more than forty minutes late? Was his mother really at home? Instead of being at home, waiting for him and his tardy brothers to return, was she still in Fremont County or was she experiencing a bit of trouble? Lhaklar wouldn't go crazy after arriving home first—he had come home to an empty apartment before many times, so he knew well how to act between his coming home to finding himself as being the lone resident of the apartment and then finding the apartment being "overrun" by them after they came in for the day.

The feeling that he was getting couldn't be coming from Hazaar or Lazeer; they weren't only with him but they were also in the car. Could it just be nerves? He had been away from home for so long... he had spent all morning and early afternoon without hearing or seeing a thing of his mother—sometimes, after spending a decent stretch of time away from his brothers, or from his mother, or both, he did get to feeling a bit nervous. He was a mid-teenage boy... he still had that nervous tick to him when his mother or brothers weren't around him.

Lazeer gave the back of his seat one more kick before stopping; as it turned out, it was that kick that got him out of his trance. He shook his head, then took in his surroundings, then reached to take the key ring, which had since fallen down to the floorboard of the car, up. He was just pushing the key back into the car's ignition when his communicator went off.

"Bile! Bile! Where the hell are you?" the voice that came through his communicator wasn't only stressed but it also belonged to Lhaklar. He was fast in taking his communicator up from his belt.

"Lhaklar, what is it? We're nearly home." he said after pressing the initiate button on his communicator.

"F... no! Don't go home, dammit!" he, and his younger brothers, became tense after noting the still present stress that was in Lhaklar's voice.

"What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Dad got into the shield, that's what wrong! He had a bunch of Goblins with him—" Lhaklar's voice died out for a few seconds before coming in strong again. "He took all of our stuff, Bile! Somehow, he got into the shield and then found where we live—he took everything, Bile, and he was waiting for us to come home. He's got me holed up in the dump right now, Bile."

"What?" Bile exclaimed. "What did you say?"

"My dad— _your_ adoptive father—robbed us of most of our stuff! I have no idea where it all is but I have a suspicion that it's all at his place on Moas." Lhaklar replied. "I came home right after doing a little hunting and fishing... he was waiting for us and... and he tried to capture me! I injured him and he's pissed about it! He's... oh shit, Bile! He's—"

"Spread out and look for my son." TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's voice, which was very full of anger, came in through the communicator speaker loud and clear. "I want him found and then brought to me at once!"

"Oh shit!" Bile exclaimed. He dropped his communicator then he gave the key to the car a swift twist. He sped off towards the dump right after the car was started.


	38. Chapter 38

The dump; it was a place where human waste products, and other items that were either dump-worthy or were not dump-worthy, were put. This place, where he and his brothers went to scavenge for things for the apartment, had the characteristic smell that would be present for a dump—at the moment, this smell was worse than the other times that he and his brothers, or just plain he, had visited the place.

Many thousands of years ago the Green River, Wyoming dump had started out as nothing more than a single pile of junk and waste-matter; as was custom, the dump had grown in size only as the ones who lived in the town that it serviced had. Naturally, the piles of junk had dropped in size during the plagues and natural disasters; they had remaining in that way for a couple of years before going back to their former sizes again.

The larger piles, that were near to where the dump's center lay, consisted of matter that was both disgusting and unusable; he and his family stirred clear of the dump's center for two reasons—the piles harbored nothing that they'd want, or be interested in, and because the smell was so revolting that it damn near made the noses on their faces want to evaporate. There were many medium-sized piles distributed beyond the larger piles; he and his brothers typically searched through the piles that were placed to the extreme outer edges of this area—the pickings were better and the smell was a little more tolerable. The smaller piles that lie beyond the medium-sized ones contained what Lazeer called their Golden Nuggets; they had so many fine things in them and, most of the time, they found something within them to take home—handbags, boots, shoes, jewelry, clothing, toys, posters, old photographs, maybe a discarded, but still useful, appliance, and, of course, game systems and their controllers and compatible games.

As was natural, anything that they found, and then desired to take home with them, was cleaned before being put to use in the apartment or being sold; their mother had a strict rule when it came to their bringing things home from the dump—it had to be cleaned and thoroughly before being allowed to take up space in the apartment.

As was the norm, there were all sorts of sticky things lying about on the dump's grounds; upon running into the area, and then taking up "residency" behind a pile of broken, cracked, and thought-to-be little use boards, he had stepped on more than enough sticky matter to make the undersides of his shoes stick to the surfaces of just about anything. He had only just made it to the dump by the skim of his teeth; getting himself hid, and then contacting his brothers—to tell them what was going on and to tell them to not go home—, had been done quickly. After his father and his blasted Goblins, granddad Cheshire, and uncle Efagti came into the place, and then started looking for him, he had turned his communicator off and then hunkered down.

Along with the many piles of junk that were in the place there was a fire pit—the caretakers of this place used their bulldozers to fill it then they simply lit a torch and then threw it in; everything that was in the pit would burn afterwards—and a slew of slime pipes—the closest one was about fifty yards from him. Lazeer pretty much called all of the slime pipes the Jolly Green Giant's Waste Hole—none of them disputed this or chided him for calling them that. While a pipe would be a better than grand thing to hide in he was not going anywhere near the slime pipes; not only would they be a tight fit for him but he'd also get covered in all sorts of green, icky, yucky waste-water that'd just about make him hurl. The board pile had been the quick alternative to his finding and then hiding in a pipe; here he was, in this nice, smelly, and sometimes offensive place, nearly on his knees, hiding being a pile of boards—all that had been stacked up nicely, with the bigger ones being placed near to the pile's bottom and the smaller sized one being on top of them.

He still had the finger knives on his index, middle, and ring fingers; they could still be used as a protective source but... but now they were one of the few protective things that he could use to keep himself safe with. Since his hunting knife had been in his bag, and since he had thrown that bag after noting that it was slowing him down, he no longer had it; it was a wild guess but he guessed that one of his father's party had come across the bag and then had a heart in sending it to where all of his family's material possessions had been sent.

Wherever it was, it was of no use to him now. He couldn't run back and get his hunting knife, or his bag; he was to just have his three, remaining finger knives and his powers to rely on to get out of the present situation in, hopefully, one piece.

"Sir, we haven't found a trace of him on the east-side of this location." he heard a nearby Goblin say to his father.

"I want this whole place double, triple, and then quadruple checked until he is found." he heard his father say. "Leave no stone unturned, got me?"

"Yessir,"

Leave no stone unturned? Oh shit, if that meant what he thought it meant then he was in for some deep trouble here and soon. Were they really going to start looking through the piles to see if he was in them or were they just going to look around the piles to see if he was hiding behind them?

Due to the dump's periphery fence being directly behind him he had very little space to move around in; while he could take advantage of the fence by climbing it he didn't dare want to try it—his father, or one of his Goblins, or granddad Cheshire or uncle Efagti, would see him and then rush over to either prevent him from escaping or use something on him that'd cripple him to a certain extent so that, when he did get on the fence's other side, he couldn't run away. He could see it now after he was caught; the Goblins would grab him, then do the yank and then drag routine as they carted him over to his father, then stand back as he was assaulted by either one of his father's hands or with his belt.

With the Goblins now seeming to be looking through the dump's various piles of junk, he looked to his immediate right; the board pile that he was hiding behind ran a span of four or so feet then, when it ended, there was nothing but space. There was nothing but good, crisp, clear distance between it and the next pile, which consisted of rotting produce and clothing items; after noting this, he decided against going in that direction. It was nearly the same scenario to his left so, if he wanted to find a new hiding place, he'd have to do some running; he might as well do some praying while he was at it that no one saw him while he chanced the act of finding himself a new hiding space.

Since he didn't know who was in the area he couldn't base his run to a new hiding space until after the area was clear; when he sprang out from behind the board pile he did so right in front of Losal, who was just a mere five or so feet from him. Losal ran after him; due to his legs having been untangled, and due to his being faster, he beat him to the nearest pile and then to the two that lay beyond it. When he reached the third pile of junk, which was about eight feet tall by ten and a half feet wide, he stopped then turned around; his remaining finger knives not only caught against Mr. Losal's chest but they also caught the bicep of the Goblin who had joined Losal in chasing him. Losal howled right after feeling his chest being ripped open while the other man made not a sound at all; another swipe with his hand, then the use of an air torrent, caused him to both yell and fall to the ground. He ran off after sweeping the second Goblin's legs out from underneath him. He ran past several piles of junk, then a dryer that was just sitting out in the open, waiting to either be given a home in one of the piles or cause certain trouble to one who wandered by it and then grew curious about it, before ducking behind a pile of old crates that had been piled up on one other.

"What happened?" TazirVile demanded after running up and then noticing that Losal was both on his knees and nearly doubled over.

"Sir, Young Master Lhaklar jumped out from behind the board pile then ran off. We ran after him; he attacked us right after we reached this location." Daosi Zultoa, a short Goblin who had dark blue skin and large, yellow eyes, said. "Mr. Khrelan got the worst of his attack, sir."

"Losal, you alright?" TazirVile asked. His chest was heavy with anger; he was wheezing and his hands were flexing and then relaxing.

"I'm..." Losal gulped, then took in a breath, then looked up. "I'm fine."

"Head back to camp," TazirVile said after doing a quick examination of his employee's wound. "That's an order."

"I'm fine, sir. Really." Losal said. "Just a scra—"

"You heard me, head back to camp!"

When he moved his shoulder, he accidentally bumped one of the crates; a chainsaw effect happened where one crate fell and then the one underneath it fell and so on and so forth. He was off right after the still-standing Goblin spotted him and then shouted out his presence. As he ran around the south side of the dump, he had two Goblins hot on his tail—one of these men was burly while the other was quite lean but both were very very fast. He put on a burst of speed; it was only after he had run around a large pile of odor-steaming stuff that he stopped and then turned around. His two Goblin followers got a surprise after they joined him on the other side of the pile; the leaner man was grabbed by the throat, and then heaved up, and then body-slammed while the other found himself being in a mini-fight with him. As the leaner bodied Goblin wheezed, and tried to gain to his feet, his companion was trying to pull his legs out from underneath him; he punched his arm down, the Goblin jumped back to avoid the fireball that had just been sent at him, then he lunged at him. This sorry sap of a Goblin, who was wearing a brown striped tuxedo, was sent flying after the ground shot up underneath him a second later.

With the two Goblins subdued, he took off around the pile; he went a distance of around an eighth of a mile before finding a building that looked like a good hiding spot. He went to it, then slammed its door shut, then latched it, then ran to the building's far back; once to the back of the building, he chanced a look at the hand that his finger knives were on. What he saw chilled him to the chore—one of the Goblins that he had just gotten through fighting had managed to evict one of his finger knives, so he now just had two to rely on to keep him safe with. With this noted, and with his body screaming for a small break, he leaned his back against the wall then dropped into a crouch; he had just sat on the building's dirt floor when his brothers pulled up in the parking lot that was beside the dump.

"Alright, Hazaar... Lazeer, you two wait here." Bile said as he undid his seatbelt then reached for the car's driver's side door handle. "I'll be back with Lhaklar in a jiff."

"Absolutely not!" Hazaar exclaimed. He undid his seatbelt then got out of the car. "I'm going with—I want to help!"

"Someone needs to stay and keep Lazeer company." Bile knew that what he had said was weak but he didn't know anything else to say in regards to his two, young brothers joining him in retrieving Lhaklar; he didn't want neither of his two, younger brothers to be hurt.

"I'll be fine—I'll be joining you two right when the sun goes into hiding." Lazeer, who was still on the floorboard of their mother's car, said. "Have fun—leave me one of them bastards please."

He hesitated; for just a second, he thought about telling Hazaar to get back in the car. The time window in helping Lhaklar out of his present situation was very small, he didn't need to be worrying about his younger brothers tagging along and he also didn't need to be worrying about Hazaar and Lazeer becoming further pawns to whatever their father had up his sleeve. For all he knew, Lhaklar might of already been caught... hell, come to think of it, his brother might just be getting ready to experience the whipping of a lifetime. The dump, both on the inside and on the outside, was quiet, which only upped his anxiety levels—was Lhaklar okay or had the chase and then capture been done?

After deciding to let Hazaar tag along with him, he went towards the fence; not only was he well-balanced but he was also in very good control of himself and, with each step that he took, his strength was shown—this was only evidenced when he leaped onto and then over the fence. Not only was he quiet when he leaped at the fence but he put very little to no effort in on his jump; he had no more placed his hands on the fence before removing them. At one second, he was on the outside of the dump and, at the next, he was inside the dump. Hazaar climbed the fence normally then, when he was at the top, he simply jumped down; once they were on the dump-side of the fence they got serious in looking for their brother.

The various piles of junk were checked; the single-placed appliance items were checked; the strewn-about buildings that they came upon were checked. They had only just gotten through checking out a line of sheds when they decided that their brother wasn't on the south-end of the dump; Bile, after this decision was made, was slow in making his way towards the dump's center. He kept himself low, which did wonders in keeping him safe from being seen from the ones that he determined were the enemy. He had only just reached the second line of junk piles that surrounded the dump's center when he came upon his adoptive father.

After uttering a single grunt, then ducking behind a pile of smelly stuff, that he determined was produce, he looked out at what was going on before him—this action of his caused him to note that he hadn't just happened on his adoptive father.

Cheshire and Efagti were standing to his far left; there were four Goblins searching the piles of junk to their immediate right and left while, standing a dozen or so yards from them, was his adoptive paternal figure. Bile, after taking all of this in, looked behind him; he saw that Hazaar was in a crouched position behind a pile of bricks that were about two to three feet to his right. With his younger brother's location noted, Bile mouthed the command for him to both keep quiet and where he was. Hazaar was just nodding his head when he turned to look at the activities that were going on before him.

"Sir, you're bleeding quite badly." Suugnor Hofnor, a Goblin who had pale green skin and eyes, and who was wearing a solid green tuxedo, said.

"So what," TazirVile returned.

"You're bleeding in several areas, sir. Maybe you should return to camp to—"

"I will only return to camp when I have my son." TazirVile said.

"Sir—"

"Look for my son!" TazirVile snapped.

"Sir..."

Kalach knew it was coming and he braced himself for it; he had never been touched by his employer—he had been reprimanded vocally but he had never been reprimanded by touch, the same went with a majority of his co-workers.

He had been told that TazirVile Surfeit only got physical when he had to—meaning when one of his employees weren't listening, or were being stubborn, or were becoming violent. Suugnor Hofnor was a young Goblin; he was newly employed, so he didn't really know anything about his employer. The man had only just graduated from Staffer's Academy before finding himself being approached by their employer; he bet that the man had done more than drop his jaw when the question of his coming to work for the man was asked—even though this had happened five years ago he still spoke of it like it had just happened yesterday. Mr. Hofnor had gotten the same education as the rest of them—he knew how to conduct himself when he disclosed his concern for their employer and he also knew how to obey and comply with the commands that were given to him by his employer; with his having the same education as all of his co-workers he should also know the signs of telling whether or not his employer was fine or not, and he should also know that what he was doing was soon to get him into a bit of hot water.

Suugnor, who, along with Daosi Zultoa, had been called in to assist them just before they had reached the dump, wasn't paying any attention to the stance of their employer at all; the man wasn't having any issues in keeping on his feet, he wasn't off-balance or slurring his speech, and he wasn't acting confused. Despite the severity of the wound that was on his left arm and leg he had good color, which was a good indicator of how well he was in regards to his present injuries. Master Tazir was fine; he may be injured, and he may be bleeding, but he was fine. Suugnor continued to disobey their employer for a few more seconds before the expected happened; a short verbal exchange occurred between their employer and he before their employer turned and then lunged at him. Kalach Speelin winced when his employer grabbed his co-worker by the throat then he winced again when the man heaved his co-worker up and then slammed him against the side of one of the trash heaps.

"You listen and you listen good you fuckin' stool pigeon," Kalach heard his employer say to his co-worker. "I gave you an order and you best damn obey it or else, I'll have my foot so far up your ass you won't be able to walk much less sit down for a week. Hearing me, or do you need the gunk drilled out from your ear canals?"

"Loud and clear, sir!" Suugnor choked.

"Good and now you note this—I don't give a rat's ass about what all injuries I have on me; my son is my worry and my priority. Got that, or do I need to write it on the flesh of your arm?"

"Loud and clear, Master Tazir." Suugnor squealed. "Crystal clear—I h-hear and comply fully with your order of not bothering you again."

"Good," TazirVile released the Goblin, who slid down the trash heap then scrambled away. "Let what just happened be a lesson to all of you! My sons are priority! My family is of intense importance to me! I'll risk every drop of blood and every shred of flesh on my body for them and, by the Gods, will I be successful in having them returned to my home."

And, with that, he went back to looking for his employer's son. Even though he was a bit unnerved by what he had just seen he wasn't about to end his loyalty to his employer or regard him in a distant way—Suugnor deserved what he had gotten and both he, his co-workers, and the men who were in his employer's military knew it. The same went with his employer's wife and sons; no loyalty would be severed on this day—he forgave Lhaklar for throwing him into that pile of brown, moldy, bacteria leaden, and overly smelly matter and he forgave his employer's wife for the altercation that she had had with several of his co-workers last month. He was still in shock over the necklace that he had seen in the pile of junk that he had landed on; a perfectly fine necklace, that looked to have diamonds on its band, had been thrown away—he had come close to both picking it up and then pocketing it after noticing it in the pile but, with a lot of restraint, he had stopped himself from doing so. He had nearly taken the necklace up for his wife; due to the rich love and respect that he had for the woman, and to his making enough money to buy her a new piece of jewelry once a week, he didn't need to be taking or even think about taking the items that had been thrown away and then carted to the dump.

As he searched for his employer's son he thought about his employer's wife. The two of them had hit it off rather well; at the time of their meeting, he had only been working for TazirVile Surfeit for a year and a few months. Instead of being mean and nasty towards her, like it was custom in his species to do with the ones that were unknown, he had just been distant with her; he had only just started being a little less distant towards her when Eldass's meeting was made. Unlike the half of his co-worker's who had followed in Eldass's and Homsi's example by placing AI on their Loyalty Papers he had waited a few hours before making the decision to pledge loyalty to her. Even though her name had been placed on his papers, and even though he had pledged his loyalty to her, he had still been distant with her and he had still not given her his trust.

In contrast to his pledge to Mistress Angel, it had taken him all of six months before placing TS on his Loyalty Papers; he had gotten to know his employer some and, at the time of his loyalty pledging, he had started regarding him as a good, respectable man. His employer was not like that mad-man—TrobrencusVile Bloym Surfeit. No canes were used in an attempt to make his presence seem more important; no canes were used against the ones who worked for him; no fear was instilled on the ones who worked for him; and no abuse was given out. In his eyes, Mistress Angel was much like her husband; not only was she very resourceful of the things around her but she was also very nice and respectful. He had turned into being one of her most trusted Goblins at around year ten of his working for both her and her husband; even though his brother and she were on good terms he wasn't regarded as one within her circle. A sort of talk had been done between the two of them after he had been appointed as one within her circle; it had been mutually decided that Abevo would remain a simple employee and Mistress Angel would remain as being their employer's wife.

"Pardon if I offend but you wouldn't by any chance be related to Homsi would you?" he recalled his employer's wife asking him one day about a week or so after Lhaklar's seventh birthday was celebrated.

Instead of putting the question off, or answering with a 'tude, he had answered what had been asked of him nicely and quickly; while he had been fast in telling her the difference between his family and the Modulavich's he had been slow in telling her his life's history.

There was no familial relationship between he and Homsi Modulavich; he came from the Speelin family, who were typically hired to work for folk who were of the lesser affluent sort, while Homsi was from a family that was known to be employed by people of middle to high affluency. In regards to the Modulavich's, the Speelin's were less regarded by the more affluent families who were looking for employees to work their homes or businesses. Up to being employed by TazirVile Surfeit he hadn't known a thing about Homsi Modulavich; he thought that the man was very loyal, and hard-working, and he also thought that he was respectful and polite. He and Homsi, after working around one another for a while, and after getting to know one another real good, had become friends at around year five of his working for TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit.

After telling the woman this he had told her that he had a wife and a daughter; his mouth had been sealed right after this had been spoken of. He had decided to wait and see if she'd keep what he had told her to herself before telling her more on himself. Two weeks after telling his Mistress the history of his and Homsi's families, and about him having a wife and a daughter, he had decided to tell her a little more about himself.

He had three other siblings—two older sisters, who, while having gone to Staffer's Academy, had dropped out of Staffer's Academy to have families with the slum-bums that they had taken on to be their partners, and an older brother, who had dropped out of school after getting hooked on drugs. His two sisters were now single parents—their partners had up and left them right after the kids had started walking—and his brother had let the drugs take him. Bjorglo wasn't only still on his drugs but he also had no ambition or drive to do anything; all he did was sit and get drunk, or high, and then count the invisible sheep and wolves that appeared on the walls of his one-room apartment.

He and Abevo had been the only two who had stuck it through in getting an education and then in putting that education to work after being employed; Abevo had a way of being shy, and with being a bit hard to get along with, and he was a bit on the cautious side but, after a while, he was a pretty good fellow to hang around with. He was the exact opposite of his brother. After graduating from Staffer's Academy—he had graduated fifty places from being placed on the top of his graduating class while his brother had been slightly ahead of him—they had started looking for work. He and Abevo, who was five years his junior, had done an equal share of two hundred and five years at Staffer's Academy; they had gotten the standard education for a Goblin who was burly and they had also gotten the usual education that was given to a Goblin who possessed any of the other known body types out there. Even though they had graduated at the same time it had been his brother who had been employed first; Abevo had been approached, and then interviewed, and then hired by a woman who bred, raised, and then raced horses—this woman had owned a large quantity of land and she had been looking for people to work that land, and its many horses, and she had picked Abevo to be one of them people. As fate would have it, Abevo had left his life, and had gone overseas, about five months after graduation occurred.

He and Abevo, being the youngest of their parents' offspring—Bjorglo was a hundred and thirty years older than they while their sisters were a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifteen years older than they—, had been especially close to one another when they had been kids; it had really been no surprise to anyone in their family that a sort of blood-oath had been made between them. He and his brother had swore to always stick together and, in their kid and teenage days, they had done just that; he had just about felt himself drained of energy after his brother went overseas to work for his new employer—this feeling had caused him to go into a sort of depression that had gripped him for all of a year, and that had caused him to miss out on two job opportunities. His turn in getting employed had come right after his depression was kicked to the curb.

A Norslen Axlett, a rich man who got drunk too much, and who swung both ways a little too much, had been the one to employ him; he had no more started working for the man before wanting to be rid of him and the job that he had been hired to do. Norslen came off as nice sometimes, mean at others, nasty and downright rotten at others, and he also had a tendency to flirt with his hired help. He had just one thing to thank the man for and that was his wife—Lege Sargieo was one fine Goblinette! Long, red locks of hair, that was a little stringy; a triangular-shaped face that had pretty lips, a short, thin nose, and two, light blue eyes in it; and a body to drool over... that was his wife. He had fallen for her fast; soon after meeting her he had tried to ask her out. Twice. His nerves had gotten in the way on each of them tries so, instead of asking her out, he had just sighed and then walked away. On the third attempt, he had gotten it all out; he had taken her out for a meal, and then for a leisure stroll down the beach, and then for a drive through a park, before taking her home. The real deal dating had started being done a week later; the question of her marrying him had been asked six months later. Their first child had been created on the night that the question had been popped.

Norslen Axlett, instead of being happy for him, had not been happy over the proposal or of his dating one of his co-workers. Not only had he come across the man insulting his newly made fiancée, who had become his wife two months after the question was asked, but he had also caught him trying to pull the old accidental hand-flying-towards-the pregnant-woman's-stomach thing a few times too—while both had infuriated him he had been especially infuriated by the hand flying thing. Norslen had had it out for the both of them and he had also had it out for the child that Lege had been carrying—one time, when his wife was six months pregnant, and was carrying a load of clothes down from the upstairs portion of the Axlett house, Mr. Axlett had had the nerve in trying to trip her up; he had just said _oops_ then his foot had been stuck out then Lege, and the basket of clothing that she had been carrying, had gone flying. Their baby had very nearly been lost thanks to this event; he had confronted the man for his "oops" moment right after the event happened—a good kick in the rear had been given for his troubles, then a book had been thrown at him, then the sentence of _you get your brown ass out of here and go back to work_ was said. The two events that happened next had sealed his fate with Norslen Axlett—not only had the man grabbed Lege, who had been seven months pregnant at the time, by the neck after she had decided to partake in taking a few minute breather but he had also tried to rape her a week later.

Lege, at the time of the raping incident, had been in the Axlett kitchen, making up a meal for one of Mr. Axlett's four kids; Mr. Axlett had come in, had noticed her, then had come up with the crazy idea of grabbing and then throwing her to the floor. A knee to the groin had stopped the attempted rape then Lege had gone running; she had quit right after this event occurred. He had gotten more than a little pissed after hearing of the event and, like any other man who's wife was just assaulted, he had intended to pay the man back for his attempt in sexually harming his wife. After doing a quick drive to the Axlett mansion, then going inside, then tracking Mr. Axlett down, he had repaid the man for his assault—like his wife before him, he had quit right after the pay-back for the attempted sexual assault was done. A charge for assault had been put on Norslen right after he had gotten home—Norslen Axlett had been arrested and then charged with domestic assault and attempted sexual abuse towards a staff members twelve hours later.

He had sued Norslen Axlett for the abuse that he and his wife had gone through; not only had he won his case but he had also gotten $3000 back—all of this had gone towards his and Lege getting a new apartment... one that was far away from the man who they had been working for. His wife had given birth to their first child a few months later; things had looked great for them at first then things had gone downhill and fast—with neither of them working, and bringing in money for the bill paying, they had started getting behind in paying their bills. He had only been able to find two jobs after the apartment was gotten and the baby was born, and both of them had required him to work for double the standard hours that one worked in and the pay from both had been pitiful.

His history telling had been put to a halt at that point; instead of telling her the rest of what had happened in his life, and about the real happenings of what happened between he, his wife, and Norslen Axlett, he had excused himself and then gone back to work. His reason in ending the telling of his history had been based off his employer's wife looking a bit too interested in what he was telling her—she had looked like a kid at story-time; she had been taking all of what he was telling her in deeply and he had grown suspicious of her doing so. He had gone back to work and, instead of speaking to her, he had been quiet around her; again, after noticing that she had spoken not a thing of what he had told her, he had decided to go on in telling her the rest of his history and to also clarify what had really happened between he, his wife, and Mr. Axlett.

"Remember how I told you that my wife and I quit our prior job after our previous employer tried the old sexual assault thing on one of us?" he had asked her.

"Yes, horrible. Glad that you beat him up." he remembered his Mistress saying.

"I did a big number on the man—I beat him up real good... but only after he raped me."

Yes, Norslen Axlett had raped him. The man had grabbed him by the arm, then had picked him up, then had thrown him against the wall of his and his wife's bedroom. He had been swimming between being conscious and unconscious at the time of his pants being undone and at the time of his being arranged in the position that the man wanted him to be in. He had only regained full consciousness after his employer had pushed his root into him—he had just about had a heart attack when this happened; not only had the man not had the opportunity to ejaculate but he had also not had a chance to protect his jaw or eye. Thanks to him, Norslen was now walking around with his left eye being half shut and with having only half a testicle.

Norslen Axlett's wife, who had taken him as being a burglar and her husband as the "house protector", had called the police right when the attempted sexual assault on him was started; he had been arrested and then carted away—the file for domestic, and then sexual, assault had been done right after he had been booked and then placed in a jail cell. He had been released, Norslen had been arrested, and then carted to the same jail, then a court hearing had been arranged. While he had won his case it had taken some time—about four months to be exact. By the time his case was won, he and his wife, and their one and a half month old child, were heavily in dept.

Instead of moving to a new apartment, and then starting a new life, they had been forced into remaining in their old one; Norslen had stalked both of them for the entire duration that the courts had been squaring off on what was to happen between the two of them—Norslen's Lover had been key-scratched to the driver's side door of his car; two of the windows of the apartment had been broken by one of Norslen's shoes, which he thrown at the apartment for no apparent reason; and the apartment had been broken into and then ransacked twice. A small firearm had been purchased after the latter occurrence happened—with things going in the direction that they had been going, he had seen the purpose of having one on hand. His little purchase had gotten him arrested again—the purchase of a firearm for his family's protection had gone against his parole; he had spent all of five days behind bars with two cell mates, who had done more than have at him during his time behind bars. His case had been pushed through a week after he had been released from jail—he thanked the Gods for this; his case had come very close to being thrown out because of his firearm purchase, parole violation, and then return to jail. In all, it had taken a week and six days for the court and jury to decide that he was to be favored instead of his former employer; he had been awarded $3000 in damages while Norslen had been required to take both alcoholic and anger restraint classes.

"My arrest record is still on my file, my Mistress. No effort on my part can get it removed—I'm a man who has a shamed history... a history which hasn't gotten past my society and has, thus, cost me several good or decent-paying jobs and which has also caused me and my wife from being able to reside in one place for long." he had said after clarifying his history. "At the time that Master Tazir came to see me, Lege and I were on the lowest of the low of the totem pole—we could barely afford a pot to piss in much less enough grub for the table to keep us, much less our young daughter, fed. If not for your husband, my wife and I might of very well of lost our little girl."

From what he had been told, it had been his brother who had gotten their employer's attention on him; Master Tazir had shown up on his and Lege's doormat one day about fifty years after his and his wife's daughter was born. Abevo, who had only just been employed by the man, had slipped their employer a piece of paper with his name on it then had said how "hard-working" and "trustworthy" he was before going on to continue with his given chores—if his brother had known that he had a shamed record he might not of done this. Master Tazir, at the time of the interview, had had a young daughter to think of and he had also had his own reputation to think of—he had not needed a man who had a shamed or questionable record working for him. The man had made the trip to the apartment, then had given the door a single knock, then had been let in; he, about an hour later, had come in to find the man sitting all cozy-like on the apartment's lone piece of furniture—a simple, old couch, that had more than enough dust both on and in it. After introductions were made the interview had been done; he and his current employer had spoken long and hard on the issue of his shamed history—all of what had happened had been told—after that interview took place. Even though the man had said that he had good credentials, and was highly interested in having him working for him, he had noted a sort of distance in his tone of voice; in all, after the man left the apartment and then returned to his own abode, it had taken two weeks before he had heard from him again.

He and Lege, and their daughter, had been moved into one of the available apartments that were located underneath his employer's house two days after he was hired to work for the man; he owed his employer a lot—if not for him he would probably be daughter-less, wife-less, and he would probably also not be walking around in the flesh. He had a better than fine job; he had better than good friends who looked past his past history; and he liked where he was in life. He and his wife had had two other children—two boys—since moving into his employer's staff's quarters and his close relationship had been rekindled with his brother. Even though he was a little on the nervous side whenever someone came up on him from behind he was still very much the same as he had been before Mr. Axlett had had his go at him—this had proved to be a very good thing because he, and Losal, had turned out to be Young Master Bile's adult "buddies"; it seemed that, whenever the two of them had turned around to see what was going on behind them, they'd fine a certain Young Bile running or ducking behind something. The youngster had been fond of being a sort of "stalker" with them and neither of them had minded that a single bit.

"Hazaar," Bile whispered lowly right when the Goblin, who he use to shadow as a youngster, turned in his direction.

"Yeah,"

"Be a good Little Brother for me and provide a distraction." Bile said.

"Wh... hell no!" Hazaar exclaimed in a whisper. "Why the hell should I?"

"Lhaklar's in that shed over there," Bile held his finger just out of view; the shed that he was pointing at had two Goblins approaching it. "Someone needs to distract the Goblins so I can go in and get him."

"And then you'll have me to save!" Hazaar whined. "That's making a new problem."

"You'll be fine, just run and they'll cha—"

"Have you forgotten that my father's in the area? So what if the Goblins chase after me! My father will probably jump out from some place or my grandfather or—"

"Do some of them fancy turns of yours—do some of them Elemental power moves that you've created." Bile said. Before anything else was said, he said, "I promise that I'll help you after I h—"

In the time that his brothers had been in the dump, he had grown tired of waiting in the car; he had decided to take advantage of the coat that he was wearing and he had chanced it in both getting out of the car and then playing fence-hop. He had volted over the fence—he had no issues or qualms over doing so; he liked jumping over fences, or climbing up and then down them—then he had run into the dump about five or so minutes after Bile and Hazaar were starting in on their search for Lhaklar. The sun had become hid after he had entered the dump so he had been allowed to run around without having anything to shield his left side with; however long he had left in doing this he didn't know and, really, he wasn't paying much attention to how much longer he had before needing to take cover again or in being fearful of the sun's rays catching his sensitive eye. He had gone in the direction that Bile and Hazaar had gone in right after getting into the dump then, after seeing where they were, and then noticing that Bile seemed right interested in the center-lying shed, he had decided to become his own Brother Saving party.

With all the Goblins running around, he was surprised that he hadn't run into one of them; he was double surprised over not encountering his father as well. After moving away from his brothers, then getting to an area where there were no Goblins wondering around, he had placed his hands on the ground to see what it was that his brother was so excited about on the shed—seeing Lhaklar, all huddled up in the shed's way back, had been enough to tell him that the shed was what he wanted to put most of his attention on. Lhaklar, during his use of his Telepathy, had looked scared to death—he didn't blame him; with there being so many Goblins running around, and with their father standing around, looking just as angry as a bull, he would probably be scared too if he had been in his shoes.

Cheshire Ubalki, his father's stepfather, and his step-grandfather, looked both serious and upset while his son, Efagti, looked a bit too calm. Most of the Goblins looked unemotional to what was going on; there were two who looked a bit perturbed by what was going on while around half of the men who were wearing army fatigues looked... hungry. If he had to pin a name to it, they looked hungry for either blood, skin, or for a fight.

After getting within good distance of the shed, he took in a deep breath then ran forward; when he was within five feet of the building he threw his arms back then, after a second or two, he drew them forward. White acid flew out from the ends of his fingers; it splashed against the side of the shed then, not one second later, exploded—his brother was exposed right when the two Goblins, who had been approaching the shed at the time of his charge and then building-based attack, noticed that he was in the area. The two Goblins opened fire on him right after seeing him progressing towards his brother; he dodged all of their energy attacks then, when he was within reach of his brother, he grabbed him. They damn near broke their necks in getting out of the area afterwards.

"Holy shit, Lazeer!" Lhaklar exclaimed. "I am damn glad to see you!"

"Same with you you ugly fuck." Lazeer replied. "Looks like you've got Goblins nipping at your heels."

"That and a very pissed off daddy."

"What'd you do to piss him off?" Lazeer asked.

"Fought him—used my finger knives on him to get away." Lhaklar replied. After going around a few piles, then hearing the footfalls of their pursuers grow faint, he held his remaining finger knives up. "He took two of them while one of the Goblins managed to slip another off."

"Damn! Well you have two left so let's use 'em."

They dodged past a trio of Goblins, then they barely managed to dodge the attacks that them Goblins sent at them, then, after seeing themselves as being at a comfortable distance from them, they ducked behind a line of old, rusty cars. They had no more released the sighs that they were holding in when they received a surprise—various ground matter fell on them after Bile and Hazaar popped up behind them on a small ground tornado. With their cover blown, they took to their heels again; their run to find a different shelter to take hold under was done at a very wrong time—the big orange star, that gave Earth both light and heat, and a decent amount of radiation, popped out from behind the clouds. While Lazeer tried to take cover under the overhanging boards of a junk pile he wasn't able to fully escape the rays that his eye was sensitive to—he screamed at the top of his lungs after the rays of the sun struck his sensitive eye then he collapsed to his knees. He had no more dropped to his knees before feeling a set of arms wrap around and then pick him up; the one who owned the arms "carried" him for a distance before finally putting him down.

He was, once again, reduced to being nothing more than a blubbering baby. Due to the sun hitting his sensitive eye, he was crying and feeling pain. His eye was throbbing—it almost felt like it wanted to go boom on him.

Once he was put down on the surface of some floor he reached for the bottle of drops that were in his front left coat pocket; he unscrewed the cap that was on the bottle then he leaned his head back. The hand that wrapped itself around his wrist a second later not only guided the bottle's end to the appropriate location but it also kept the hand that the bottle was in steady; he gave the bottle a single squeeze then, after the drops dripped into the eye that was causing him grief, he started blinking.

"You alright?" Bile asked. Lazeer had actually been left behind; after hearing the scream, then putting two-and-two together on who it had come from, he had doubled back for him. He had been shot at twice but he hadn't been worrying about being hit or about the pain that he had felt after both energy attacks had struck his backside—Lazeer, and getting him under some cover, so he could apply his eye drops, had been his priority. "Can you see?"

"Yes, thank you." Lazeer replied. After blinking his eye a few dozen times, then wiping the tears from his face, he started taking in his surroundings—Lhaklar, who was standing beside Hazaar, was about five feet to his left while Bile was right in front of him. "That's the last of them... the last of my drops. All I have left are the drops that the humans use."

"There's a large mass of clouds coming in... we're very close to the front of the dump now so—"

"Where are we?" Lazeer interrupted his oldest brother.

"In a shed—one of them leaners." Bile replied.

Either the Goblins had seen them go into the shed or the man who had adopted him had used his Telepathy to see where they were going—all of a sudden, a mighty gust caught against the shed; the shed, which wasn't very sturdy to begin with, gave a single, protesting sound before collapsing. Several boards fell on Lazeer; not only did they cause him to fall to the ground but they also covered him up. Hazaar was on his butt for only a second before regaining his feet underneath him; he and Lhaklar were the only ones to remain on their feet.

They were surrounded; a ring of Goblins were around them. Bile looked at his two brothers; he nodded his head then started sending out attacks. Ground arrows and spears were thrown out, then a slew of fire arrows were sent in their wake—four Goblins went flying right after he sent out four fire rings. Hazaar was fast in sending out a few smoke rings—these, when they touched the two Goblins that he was aiming for, exploded then sent their contactees flying. When he blew out a gust of blue air another Goblin went flying. Lhaklar made two golden air whips; he had no more started swinging them before seeing each and every one of the Goblins who had been sent flying returning. He sent two of the just-returned Goblins flying right when the burning sensation was felt on his back. After turning to see who his new attacker was, he wasn't but so surprised over seeing that his father was a mere five feet from him; he had time to yell out a warning to his brothers before finding himself flattened to his back.

"Enough of this," TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit both thought and said after colliding with his oldest-born son.

He was mad, he was upset, and he was sick of all the running and chasing—he was going to end all of this and now. TazirVile Surfeit looked at his secondborn son right after felling his firstborn then, after swinging his arm back, and then shooting it forward, shot a small ball of clear acid at him. This acid ball not only hit his son on the leg but also exploded; Hazaar screamed his pains then dropped to his knees. With his secondborn down for the count, he turned his attention towards Bile—who, he was fast in noting, had one hell of a well-muscled body on him.

He sent out a volley of four flaming balls at the youngster, then a white lightning bolt; Bile not only caught the flaming balls but also sent them back. The white lightning ball was also caught—instead of sending it back to him he absorbed it into his body. He was gearing up to send out an acid attack when the youngster opened his mouth—the white lightning bolt that shot out of the boy's mouth not only sizzled towards him but also hit him in the side. He fell to the ground, then rolled twice, then jumped to his feet. He rolled his arms back then shot them up and then forward right after getting his feet back to being underneath him; great globs of green acid flew towards his adopted son, who wasn't able to grab or absorb this attack. When the acid globs collided with the boy's chest, they exploded—after the boy was on his knees, he tried to dis-allow the privilege of his getting back up.

A circle of vines rose up from the ground right after he raised his arm; each and every one of them wrapped around the youngster—they had no more started wrapping around him before being cast to the side. Bile, who's body had just become engulfed in flames, leaped into the sky then dipped his body low; he reacted by getting out of the way—the move that his adopted son had used was called the Body Comet move; Angel, the boy's mother, had been the one to dub it this. Once he was on solid ground, and was in control of himself again, he kicked out a strand of black acid; the strand was quickly made into a rope and then thrown towards the boy that he was fighting. Once the acid rope settled around his adopted son's body, he pulled it in tight then simply kept pressure on it. Sparks flew out as Bile both struggled against the pain that he was experiencing and fought to get free of the rope that encircled his body; he had just given the boy a little leniency by releasing the rope a tiny bit when a roar reached his ears.

When he turned to look to his left he found himself not a bit surprised in finding a mint-green Tiger, that had pine green stripes on its pelt, running towards him.

"And this is what happens when you take your eyes off of your other opponents," he chided himself after seeing his Tiger-formed son.

Lhaklar, who had taken advantage of his father's attention being absorbed in fighting off Bile, had run off more than four Goblins before deciding to change form into a Tiger; after that form had been achieved, he had roared and then leaped at his father. When his immature body struck his father's adult one, he tried his best to sink his teeth into both his father's arm and shoulder—not only did he catch air but he also felt his stomach being punched. With the attempt to take his father out by a bite to either the shoulder or arm not able to be done he started using his claws; he created many scratch-marks to his father's left side before finding himself reeling backwards. His father, who still had his brother in the rope of acid, made a similar acid rope then threw it at him right after sending him back; he wasn't able to get out of the way of the rope or prevent it from wrapping around his back left limb. The rope, acting much like a snake, coiled around his body then yanked him up; he felt the deep searing pain of his pelt, and then the flesh that lie underneath his pelt, being burned right after it did so—ten seconds of screaming happened before he lost his form. He tried to send out an acid attack of his own but his hands had been injured—each of the suction cups that were on the ends of of his fingers had slits in them; in order for him to use his Acidic powers he had to have fully intact hands so, now that his hands were injured, he couldn't use it. With the usage of that power being out, he tried to send out an energy blast; quite surprisingly, it refused to come out. The pain that he was feeling, he came to believe, was causing each and every one of his powers to not be used.

"Hang in there... Lhaklar..." Bile strained.

"Bring four sets of cuffs, now!" TazirVile shouted. "I want these two cuffed at the wrist and ankle."

Hazaar, who had been no more than a spectator during his brothers' ordeal with their father, decided to become involved after the order for four cuffs was made; he ripped his wand out from the loops of his pants then he swung it. Clouds of black were sent towards his two, rope-bound brothers; there was an explosion then Bile and Lhaklar dropped to their knees. Hazaar was fast in making his father back off and in placing himself between him and his brothers; once in position, he started to really add some strength to his attacks and wand wielding.

He sent a volley of lightning and ground attacks at his father before deciding to just use his wand to attack his father with; several blue bolts, a cloud of black—that concealed all matter of sharp instruments, from knives to needles—, and then a crackling yellow light was sent towards the man; all but the final attack sent his father reeling back. He had no more uttered a cheer before sending another attack, this one consisting of a steady breeze, that had more than enough sandy particles in it, at the man. He kept the breeze going for a few seconds before letting it go; his father had been knocked straight to his back by his latter attack—due to his desire in wanting to keep him down he made two vines rise up from the ground and then wrap around his legs. His father looked down once before making a grunting sound; he leaped to his feet then reached into the near-tattered mess that was his coat—the mostly brown-wood wand that was yanked out from the inside of his coat had a gold strand wrapped around on it. He saw that, on the wand's tip, there was a purple, clear-glass ball; underneath the clear-glass ball, embedded in one of the gold strand wraps, was a purple amethyst stone.

The wand looked as if it had cost quite a mean pretty penny; it was surely not one of them beginner wands that were given out to the kids who were sent to Pronghorn Academy of Sorcery and Magic.

"Ferrum nigra," Hazaar said. A green and blue beam of light rushed out from the end of his wand; it went right towards his father.

"Repellere," his father said. He swished his wand to the side; the beam of light that he had sent at him was cast towards the sky and then forgotten. "Locum anulum."

"Reditum!"

Hazaar yelled; the ring of smoke, that his father had just sent at him, would of made for one nasty injury if it had struck him. After the smoke ring was sent at him he decided to get down and nasty with the spells and charms that he used against his father—if his father was trying to maim him by using spells and charms that'd cause second and third degree burns, and broken bones, then it was very apparent that, at the moment, no thoughts of his being his son were being conjured upstairs.

When he flicked his wand, a stream of white rang out; he leaped up then twirled just before the white stream was evicted from the wand that he was using. Not only did the ground in front of his father explode but so, too, did the ground behind and to the sides of him; his father was giving him a fierce glare when he decided to send a gust of flames at him—the glare all but evaporated as the man yelled, and then jumped to avoid being struck by his attack. He was just gearing up to send out a spell that'd cause a vortex of black and purple water to shoot out from his wand's tip when he saw a bright flash; his father swung his wand down then, while keeping his wand pointed down at the ground, he circled around. Only after there was a ring of white around him did he stop; the wand that the man was using was shot forward after its wielder looked at him.

The ring of white shot out at him so fast that he couldn't repel it or duck to avoid it. He was sent flying back right after it collided with him; his right arm came very close to being fractured after he landed on it a few seconds later.

"Cuff him!" TazirVile yelled. "All of them—cuff them all!"

Bile struggled to his feet; the acid rope had really knocked a lot of the fight out of him. He had burn marks on his chest, arms, waist, and back—both of his hands had some of the most gnarly of cuts on them that he had ever seen! His right ankle was giving him grief as well—after being released from his adoptive father's acid rope, he had fallen on it funny. Regardless of the state of his hands, the second he was on his feet, and then moving forward, he made them into fists; he swung at the Goblins that were coming at him then he swung at the Goblins that were coming in both Lhaklar's and Hazaar's directions. Two jumped back while two more were struck and then sent reeling back; he had just grabbed a Goblin by his shoulders and then thrown him down to the ground when he felt himself being jumped on from behind. The fist that went towards Efagti missed its target by a mile; he forgot all about Efagti, who was just running in to restrain him, as he went over backwards. A whoosh of air was heard; the sound of someone wheezing was heard next. When he got up, he wasn't but so surprised over seeing that it had been Cheshire who had jumped on him and who he had just knocked the air out of—the man, while also working on gaining his wind again, was giving him one of the most bewildered, offended looks that he had ever seen. He shrugged his shoulders then went back to defending both himself and his incapacitated brothers.

When he saw that Lhaklar had two Goblins on him, he rushed forward; he grabbed both by the shoulders then banged them into each other. He had just grabbed his brother by his arm when his legs were ripped out from underneath him—both he and Lhaklar went down at once; his brother might not of meant it but he took the fight right out of him. When he and his brother collapsed on one another, one of his brother's legs was shot up—the knee to the groin had, once again, won.

He was grabbed not a second later; a Goblin cuffed his hands behind his back while another cuffed his ankles together. Two more Goblins were cuffing Lhaklar's hands and ankles; when he looked to the side, he saw that Hazaar had already been restrained.

"Should we search them, sir?" a Goblin, who had blackish-brown skin, and sea-green eyes, and who was wearing army fatigues, asked. The man who was his adoptive father, but his brothers' actual father, was walking up.

"Yes—remove everything that you find on their persons." their father replied. "I want all of them to be removed from the area afterwards—all are to be put in a room; I want five of my staff to guard the door to that room. Hear me?"

"Yessir," the Goblins all replied.

"Sir, there was another with them." a brown-skinned Goblin, who had a large nose and a very wrinkled brow, said.

"Oh really, what'd he look like?" TazirVile demanded to know.

"Uhhh... he had periwinkle blue colored skin and—"

"Find and then bring him to me."

When this order was made, they were all laughing inside; the sun had just become hidden behind a cluster of clouds and where was their father standing? Why, right near the remains of the leaning shed that they had been in about five or so minutes ago.

Lazeer, as if on cue, leaped up from under the debris then swung his fist. TazirVile, who had no idea that he was standing near the youngster, yelled in surprise after the punch was felt. Lazeer swung his fists hard; he threw everything that he had into the man who he had been silently watching these past seven minutes. Thanks to the coating of acid that he wore on his fists, the man's near-tattered coat became nothing more than the tattered remains that maybe a hobo would be interested in wearing. He ran the man off a few feet before backing off; the thought of his going for his wand was done before he decided to just rely on his physical strengths to fight off his opponent—this decision was no more decided before he found himself being rushed at. He dodged left at just the right second to avoid being tackled then he combined his hands to make a big fist; when he swung, he timed it just right so it'd land on the small of the back of his opponent. His opponent yelled for only a second before reeling around; it was at this moment when he felt the man's fury.

His father landed left's and right's to his face, chest, and stomach; he tried to kick him as well—while he managed to absorb some of his punches he was able to completely dodge the kick. It took him a few seconds before getting back in the groove of fighting; he threw a few punches, then a single kick, then he decided to do the punch and then run maneuver. He swung his fists at his father twice, then ran back two steps, then lunged back in; the man was strong, he could take a punch, but he did have his weak areas—his sides seemed to be giving him grief and he seemed to not be very well balanced. Just as he swung his fist to land another blow on his father's face he felt his feet being yank out from underneath of him. Once down, he looked back; the Goblin who had him by the legs leaped back to avoid the golden fire blast that he had just sent his way. With the Goblin off of him, Lazeer rolled over then jumped to his feet.

Two minutes had passed; he had been keeping time. He knew that he had little time before his window of being able to be out and in the open would be closed. With no goggled glass to protect his sensitive eye from the sun's rays, and with no P.S.E specialty drops on him to fight off the pain that occurred after his eye was effected by the sun's rays, he'd be a sitting goose in nothing flat if he was caught out and in the open when the sun came out. Judging by how the clouds were looking, he guessed that he had another minute or two to go before the sun would be out again.

Just before the sun left its cloud cover, he decided to try to take his father out by using one of his weakness. With a yell, Lazeer ran forward. His body met his father's with a meaty thwack; while his father wrapped him up, and then tried to tie him into submission, he reached up and then grabbed the elastic band that was around his head. His father released his hold on him just as he started to tear his goggled glasses off of him. He had just yanked the specks off his father's face when the sun came out. His father shrieked at the top of his lungs just as he did but there was a big difference—his father was grabbing at both of his unprotected eyes while he was grabbing at just one.

Lazeer fought the pain; it hurt, yes... it felt like a raging volcano was erupting in his eye... he felt as if his eye was being assaulted by real spicy hot sauce... oh shit, it just plain hurt him! Using just about all of the resolve that he had to him, he fought it off then charged at the man who was now blind; he landed blow after blow on the man right after colliding with him. He drove him back some before delivering the blow that caused him to go flat to his back; with the man down for the count, he turned and then went towards his brothers.

"Forget me! Take that little twerp!"

The Goblins attacked from all directions; Bile yelled at the top of his lungs while Lhaklar and Hazaar lunged forward. All three of them tried to burn the cuffs that bound them—all this did was cause sparks to fly and them to scream from being burned. They were, sadly, forced to watch as their youngest brother was charged at and then wrestled down to the ground by the Goblins.

The Goblins punched, kicked, some even ducked out of view for a second or two before reappearing; a lone scream from Lazeer was heard before quiet wrapped itself around the area. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, and then, for some odd reason, metal striking metal, was heard before it was all said and done with—the Goblins' attack lasted only thirty seconds; when they backed away, Lazeer was still and just as quiet as could be.

Their baby brother, who had been born premature, and who had been said to not survive but a few days out of the NICU, lay on the ground. He was breathing; they saw that his chest was moving, but it looked like he had been knocked out cold. Bile looked at his baby brother for a few seconds before turning his gaze towards the man who was his adoptive father. The man was ten or so feet to his and his brothers' immediate left; he had three Goblins around him. One of the Goblins had taken his coat off and then placed it over his head; the man, who was mumbling under his breath, was busily applying some drops to his eyes. The man blinked his eyes a few times before reaching into his coat; the kerchief that was taken out was swiftly used to wipe the tears, and eye drop residue, from his face before being returned to the pocket that it had been removed from. He was given his goggled glasses afterwards—the elastic band was wrapped around his head, then the squishy, rubber-like glass parts were adjusted over his eyes. With his eye troubles now being relieved, and with his glasses back on his face, he stood up.

TazirVile Surfeit walked right up to their fallen brother, who had just regained consciousness; the man looked down then, right before their eyes, hocked a wad of spit at him. Lazeer shook his head then tried to roll over; Lhaklar yelled right when his father's leg was seen as being lifted while Hazeer jerked himself forward. Lazeer yelled in pain twice—his own father had given him a kick to the small of his back and then to the pit of his stomach all while walking around him. As if his eye issues weren't enough he now had to deal with the pain that his back and stomach were causing him to experience.

"Are your orders still the same, sir?" the Goblin who had asked if Bile's, Lhaklar's, and Hazaar's pockets were desired to be searched asked. "Search them then—"

"No. Teleport them to camp; have Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar put in the same room." their father replied. "Make sure that it has two beds; I want five of my staff guarding the door. No one gets in but me and no one but me gets out. Got me?"

"Yessir," the Goblin nodded his head; he then glared at Lazeer, who was cowering at his employer's feet. "And him?"

"Take him to my ship but, instead of putting him with my sons, put him in one of the dungeon's cells." their father replied. "I don't want this one anywhere near my sons. He's much too dangerous."

"Yessir," the Goblin bowed.


	39. Chapter 39

"Modulavich residence—who's this?" Kalach heard his co-worker, who still sounded a bit pained, say when he finally picked the phone up.

"Homsi, it's Kalach Speelin." Kalach said. "You available for a short conversation?"

"A short one? Yeah, sure, I've got nothing going on over here right now." Homsi replied. "What's up?"

"We got them."

Homsi, despite the pain that he was still feeling in his sides and back, shot up from his chair; his aches and pains tormented him for all of two seconds before becoming all but forgotten. Had he just heard what he thought he had heard?

Instead of being on Earth, with his employer and his co-workers, he was at home; he had been given a scare right after being told to go home—his employer had said nothing more than for him to go home and he had yet to hear a word from him since. The general fear that he had was that he had been given the silent pink slip—the farewell paper... the _you're fired_ stub that would forever mark him and his family as being scum.

He had barely had enough time to brace for his oldest daughter after coming home; she had screamed daddy then she had come racing towards him. Instead of yelling, and then pushing her back from him, he had held it in and he had returned her hug—Abara had come around the corner to relieve him of his daughter and to hustle him into the kitchen, where a sort of "pat-down" had happened, a few seconds later. At the time of his homecoming, it had been 10:30 p.m.; it had been much past Beaufi's bedtime, but he had understand that she had only been waiting up to see him—he had given the old place a call to put in the alarm of his coming home a few hours earlier. After Beaufi had gone to bed, and after he had been wife-examined, he had been told to go to bed and then to get in a good sleep; while that hadn't been a problem for him he had still had a small issue in quelling his fear over being fired—it had taken him all of two hours before falling asleep.

The Homsi Wake-Up call had been rung the morning after he had gotten home—the smell of bacon always arose him from a sound slumber and, on that morning, and on the mornings that had followed, it had done just that.

The first few minutes of his first morning back from his unknown intentioned vacation had been fine; his sleep had been shook out of him, his eyes had been rubbed, then he had gone into the bathroom. How his bladder had become full on him in the eight hours that he had been sleeping he didn't know; with his only consuming a small breakfast, and then skipping out on lunch and then supper, he shouldn't of had such a full bladder in him. With his bladder newly emptied, and then with the rest of his clothes removed from himself—instead of removing his brown tuxedo and then donning his usual pajamas he had just removed the jacket, the vest, the shirt, and his shoes and socks before sliding into bed—, he had gotten into the shower. He had felt nothing; no pains, no nothing had been felt at the time of his pants, and then black briefs' removal from his body... the pain had only just started being felt after the water from the shower hit him.

His and his wife's shower was the standard unit that was put in each of the apartments that were under his employer's house; instead of a faucet, and then a shower nozzle, being present they were both built into the wall—water either flowed out from the wall when one decided to take a bath while, when one desired to have a shower, the water sprayed out. He and his wife were opposites when it came to the temperature and velocity of the shower's water; while she preferred for it to be luke-warm, and gentle-flowing, he liked for it to be hot, and fast-flowing—he had come close to shrieking his damn lungs out when that fast-flowing spray of hot water hit him. Up to that moment, he hadn't taken a single part of him in; upon looking down, he had seen that his sides, starting at just under the armpits, and ending just before his hips, were black. A gentle probing of his hand had noted that the General that he had fought had either bruised, cracked, or broken all of the ribs that he had in his body. After noting this, he had switched the shower setting from fast-flowing to gentle and then the water temperature from hot to luke-warm; he had been baby-slow in cleaning himself afterwards.

Normally, after his morning shower, he'd grab a tuxedo, and then some shoes to go along with it, from his and his wife's closet; he'd throw them on, then he'd do his other bathroom routines, then he'd go on to having breakfast. He had no idea if he'd be wearing the brown, black, or gray tuxedos, with their ties and matching shoes, again; for all he knew, they might be the only things that he and his family could use to make ends meat after he was canned from the job. Instead of putting a tuxedo on, he had grabbed a pair of simple sweat pants, a white t-shirt, and then his pair of slippers; he had been in so much pain at that time that he had said fuck it on being somewhat presentable. After leaving his and his wife's bedroom, then going down the hallway, he had walked into Arenzoar and Dlahsleon, his two older sons; the two of them had given him an odd look before saying hello. He had acknowledged them back then he had gone on to the kitchen.

"Over twenty thousand years of living here... hard to think that me and mine might have to leave here one day." he had thought while on that walk to the kitchen.

He loved his job; he loved working for TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit. It wasn't the money that he was working for now; with the man's name on his Loyalty Papers, he had signed his life, and, really, his family's lives, to him. Yeah, sure—the $1,250 a week was fine to stuff in his pocket. Yeah, sure—the Most Trusted status was fine to have but... but the friendship was worth twice that. He worked for TazirVile Surfeit; he was TazirVile Surfeit's employee, but he had worked so hard for the man over the years... he had gotten to trust the man so much that he and the man were more like very close friends that employer and employee.

The man either went to him or to Eldass when something came up that he needed advice with—areas that involved childbearing, or child raising, had been conversed between them and so had certain issues that regarded family disputes. The man, from time to time, also relayed his physical problems to him and Eldass.

The man, long before hiring either of them, had already accepted the problems that he had with his body—the severe eye ailment, the skin that could be burned very easily, and the usual things that happened to any other man's body had all been accepted and known to him long before their interviews and then hiring occurred. It was mostly subjects that gave him concern or confusion that were relayed to them—the episodes that he had experienced after his wife had been caught were good examples of this. Master Tazir had woke up a few days after his wife had been caught to find that he had wet his bed—apparently, the man had ejaculated a few times to soil not only his bedding but also the mattress that lie under his bedding. He had thought nothing of this episode; with his being forever young, and very, very healthy, he was prone to having them episodes from time to time. If the man wanted to, he could marry more that twenty women and father any amount of children that he wanted to. The man had taken his bedding up then had carted it to the washroom; Eclaire had washed it while another of the maids had taken care of cleaning, and then drying, the mattress. The bedding had been returned to the bed a few hours later.

For all of a week, he had seen his employer carting his bedding down to the washroom—he had done this each and every morning; Eclaire, and the maids appointed to washing and then drying his mattress, had been given the order to not go into his bedroom chamber on day three of his waking to find his bedding, and mattress, soiled. He had done it all himself; the washing of his bedding, the cleaning and then drying of his mattress, and then the re-dressing of his bed had all been done by him.

The constant bedding and mattress cleaning had gone on for a week and a half more before the man had decided that he had had enough; he and Eldass had been called into his office at around noon and then been spoken to on the subject of what was going on.

Naturally, with his being a man of over a hundred and fifty thousand years of age, he had known all of the in's and out's of what happened in both the bed and between his legs; he knew all about ejaculation, and of the sensations that one felt after ejaculating, and he knew why it happened and what could happen after one wasn't careful in placing a sleeve on himself. He hadn't called him and Eldass in to discuss the workings of ejaculation; Eldass and he had been called in to listen to him speak of a fear of his—he had grown fearful of his ejaculation episodes because he had done nothing to gain them.

"I go to sleep, I stay asleep, and I dream something fierce when I sleep." the man had said. "All of the dreams are the same—a woman who, except for her eyes, is cloaked in shadow approaches me then starts in on me. She seduces me, then has sex with me, then says something about loving me and about her not knowing how much longer she can be without having me in the physical sense."

The dreams that he had explained had sounded a little crazy to the both of them but neither of them had said that; Eldass had made the silly suggestion that their employer go to bed with the woman on his mind to see if the episodes stopped—not only had their employer done that but, the morning following, he had needed a new bed frame and mattress. The mattress had just been destroyed from their employer's back-to-back ejaculating and the frame had been broken from their employer's constant tossing, turning, and thrusting.

The white juice firing, as Eldass called it, had stopped about two days later; their employer had returned to being his old self again, which had been seen as a fine thing by all of them. Everything had returned to being normal again... it had stayed normal up to the call that had come in a couple of months later. Kuruk, their employer's half-brother, had invited their employer, and Eshal, to come over and stay at his son's place; his nephew's daughter-mate—their employer's not yet realized Universal Mate—was five months pregnant and he had been one of the wanted individuals who had been desired to be there to see the birth of the child. He had heard more than enough of the stories of what had happened after his employer's arrival to his nephew's place on Gamma Vile occurred; the "white juice firing" had returned with one hell of a nasty vengeance. Master Vile's hired help had been changing his bedding, and cleaning his given mattress, each and every morning for three mornings before he had taken it upon himself to do it himself. Mistress Angel had been rather rude towards him—with her being around people who were doing their best in forcing her to do things their way, and with her carrying a baby that she was being forced to carry, she had marked everyone, Master Tazir included in the mix, who had come over with hate. Things had all but blown out of control after she had escaped her confines with her unborn child in-tote.

Master Tazir had gotten strong. While already strong physically, he had gotten even more so; his mental and mental strengths had also grown stronger during the time when she had been on the run and none of them had known the reason to why. The girl, for some reason, had done something that had given him a boost in being a better man. Their employer had caught the girl a few times, then had gone and released her—and had been injured by members of his family afterwards with each of them releasings—, then, when he had taken her captive on the last two to three times that he had had her in his possession, a sort of emotional change had been noted. It hadn't been until Mistress Angel's capture on Ite that they had gotten some answers on what was going on—she had been showing the signs of being TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's mate; along with exhibiting the pains that only their employer could release her from she had also been releasing their employer of the dreams that he had been experiencing. The two's union had been cemented shortly after she had been retrieved from Ite; Young Master Lhaklar had been made on the night that the consummation of their marriage occurred.

Angel Irene belonged to two men; she was the Family Wife and Mate of her father and she was the Universal Wife and Mate of her great-uncle. No other man had right of claiming her as theirs due to them marriage claims—or, claim, seeing as she wanted nothing to do with her Family Mate. The affections shown between the two had been enough to tell him and his co-workers that the pairing was a good one; she had loved his employer... not a day had gone by without her acting playful or flirtatious with the man; he had once walked around the corner to find his employer messing around with her hair while smiling down at her—the conversations that he had heard had been full of love and affection as well. It had been very evident that the two had loved one another and that they had been attracted to one another. The marriage had been perfect; she had made his employer happy, and he had made her happy, and when she—

"Homsi?" Kalach said, jogging him out of his memory. "You there? Hello?"

"I'm here—sorry, you caught me in one of them states where one heads back into the past." Homsi said. "What was it that you said earlier?"

"We have Master Tazir's sons. All are on the ship now."

"What?" Homsi exclaimed. He grabbed his side after yelling; just that action had caused a torrent of pain to be felt."Young Master Bile, Lhaklar, and H—"

"Yes! We have all of them, and the Reezal kid too."

"How's Master Tazir?" lame question; naturally, the man was thrilled in having his sons on his ship and, naturally, he was happy to now have the chance in getting to know who the Reezal boy was.

"Doing well—due to the circumstances of when the Young Masters were caught, he was injured some." Kalach said after a moment's pause. "All four fought us, Homsi. All who were involved fought—half of us were injured, Master Tazir included."

"I take it that he's not too happy on that?" another lame question; TazirVile Surfeit was a kind, patient, understanding being but he did have a temper and he did have buttons that could very well trigger that temper.

"Yeeeaah, no. He ordered that Young Master's Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar be put in a room and that the Reezal boy be put in the dungeon." Kalach replied. "It shouldn't be long before we head home—Mistress Angel shouldn't be too hard to capture now that we have her sons."

"Keep me updated." Homsi said.

"Will do." Kalach replied. He placed the phone down a few seconds later, after the line went dead.

At the time that Kalach Speelin was ending his conversation with Homsi Modulavich, he was trying to not fuss or fret over his hands—they hurt him a great deal and he could do nothing to stop the pain; with his not wanting to leave his two brothers' sides, he didn't dare chance going into the bathroom to see if there was any medication in there with which to treat his hands with. At the moment, he was trying to be calm—his concern over Lazeer, and what he was being put through, was giving him a merry time in doing that.

A net had been thrown over him, Lhaklar, and then Hazaar just before they had been taken to the camp that was close to Expedition Island; it had been damn embarrassing to have everyone come out from the ships to see them as they were dragged along. Granddad Kuruk had been fast in shouting for them—him, mostly—to shut up; his father, when he had come out, and then see that he was caught, had done the same thing. All sorts of yelling and screaming had been heard from their family for a few minutes then, when Lazeer was brought in, it had all died down—the yelling and screaming from him and his brothers had taken its place; after seeing the Goblins throwing, kicking, slapping, and punching at their brother they had grown concerned. Their screaming had only escalated after one of the Goblins had kicked Lazeer in the groin, and then when another of the Goblins had kicked him in the face—the net that had been over their youngest brother hadn't been on good enough; Lazeer had been able to get out from under it but, due to being tripped up, he hadn't been able to run to safety.

After being dragged into the kite-shaped ship, that had an alien skull that had a tongue lolling out from its mouth, they had seen no more of their little brother; Lazeer, they presumed, had been taken to the ship's dungeon while they had been put in the very room that they were in.

"Except for the drops that the humans use, he doesn't have anymore drops on him," Hazaar said. His tough-sounding voice was very heavy with his concern for their brother. "His eye will be paining him until he gets something to relieve it."

"I'm willing to bet that it's not just his eye that's hurting him now," Bile said. "Them damn Goblins did a bloody damn number on him... he could well have some broken bones, internal bleeding, or—"

"Stop!" Lhaklar exclaimed. "No more! No more, Bile!"

The room's carpet was diamond patterned; while some of the diamonds were teal there were others that were either brown or purple. The walls around them were a medium brown color while the ceiling above was a light brown color. The Goblins had complied with their father's order in having them put in a room that had two beds in it; both of the room's beds were single-sized and both had cream-colored sheets and comforters on them. Each of the pillows that were on the bed had matching cases on them that had a gold-colored T and Z stitched on them.

There were three pedestal tables in the room; two were on the opposite sides of bed number one while the third was on the second bed's right side. One of the tables had a normal lamp on it; the lamp that was on the table that was to the right of the second bed had a lamp on it that had a large, teal colored base to it. A large, light blue vase sat on the table that was between the two beds. A wild-looking plant was in the room's front left corner while, in the other corner, sat a brown oak dresser. A light purple fainting couch was beside the dresser and, beside that, was a gold and oak cabinet. A 50" screen was on the room's left-side wall; the door to the room's adjacent bathroom was a few paces from it. While Hazaar was standing in the back right corner Lhaklar was sitting on one of the beds; he was just standing in the room's center. Despite his ankle giving him considerable agony, he was fighting to not pace about; he was nervous. He wanted all of his brothers to be in the room and, furthermore, he wanted his mother.

"Punch on the door, Bile." Hazaar said. "Pound it open or something. Get us out of here!"

What did he have to lose? He was caught; his brothers were caught; and he was more than a little angry and upset. Bile ran at the door; when his two hundred and fifty pound body collided with it, there was a splintering sound. The hinges clanged; one gave way while the other stayed tight. The five burly Goblins, one being Abevo Speelin, that were guarding the door turned around quickly; they had all been given an order to stay by the door and to not ever leave it and to no let anyone but their employer into and then exit the room.

After hearing the door being pounded on, and then the sound of wood splitting, they went to work; Abevo ran off to one of the unlit fireplaces that were in one of the nearby rooms; when he returned, he had an iron bar on him. He jabbed the end of the bar at Bile's hand, which had just gone through the door's wood. There was a yell of pain then the hand disappeared; one of his co-workers did the spell that repaired the door—the door was no more repaired before being assault again. Bile, after giving his hand a shake, and after flinging his reddish-green blood against the closest wall to him, charged; Lhaklar, after spying the blood-splattered wall absorbing his brother's blood, joined him in assaulting the door.

He stood up, threw his coat off, then ran at the door. He and his brother were able to get the top portion of the door down before being sent reeling back—one of the Goblins that were on the outside of the door had shot a yellow energy blast at them. The door was repaired right after they were away from it.

"Bile," Lhaklar said as he sat up on the floor. His chest was starting to hurt him and he felt a bit dizzy and disoriented. "Th-there's... there's no way, m-man."

"Lhakie?" Bile got to his feet then went to his brother. "You alright?"

The answer that he got caused Hazaar to lose it; after Lhaklar lost consciousness, then fell to his side on the floor, Hazaar started to cry. In his mind, Lhaklar had worked himself up too much, and had gained too many injuries to himself, and had passed away. This figuring caused him to go into such a state that even Bile couldn't control.

Bile ran over to his younger brother; he grabbed him up in a hug then he led him over to one of the beds. Lhaklar was breathing; he was alive—with all of the fighting that they had endured, and with their assaulting the room's door, and with his temperature not being able to be regulated, he had over-exerted himself and then fainted.

After getting his brother to sit on the bed, then telling him to stay put, he went over to Lhaklar; even though he tried to pick his brother up he got no where and fast—Lhaklar weighed a hundred and eighty pounds... there was no way in hell that he could lift that without sustaining some sort of injury to his arms. He carefully dragged his brother over to the bed that Hazaar was sitting on; when he reached the bed, he stopped then he arranged his brother in a more comfortable position before going on to checking him out. With his brother being as sweaty, and as hot, as he was, he automatically knew that his jacket needed to be removed—he quickly removed that then, after a moment's consideration, he went on to removing most of the clothing articles that he was wearing. With his brother lying, near-naked before him, he grabbed him by his wrists then dragged him to the room's adjacent bathroom—the faucet in the tub was turned on then Lhaklar was "thrown" in.

"Hazaar, get a grip please." Bile said. "Lhaklar's fine—he's just... sleeping."

"Wh-what're you doing?" Hazaar snuffled while stumbling into the bathroom; Bile was now throwing water on their brother's face and upper body.

"I need you to do as I say for you to. Okay?" Bile said. Hazaar stopped, then nodded his head. "Go to the sink. Fill it with six inches of ice cold water then grab the cup that's beside the faucet and fill it; bring me the cup afterwards, okay?"

"Okay, but why?"

"Lhaklar's burning up... we need to get his temperature down and fast."

He did as he was told; he went to the sink, then he filled it, then he filled the cup then took it over to Bile, who dumped its contents on Lhaklar's head. While doing this action repeatedly, he thought of what all had happened in the last ten to fifteen minutes.

That day, which had started out so fine, had been blown in nothing flat—first, Lhaklar had come home to find the place ransacked, then he had found their father waiting for them, then he had had an altercation with their father before being chased to the dump; second, he, Bile, and Lazeer had come to rescue their brother only to find themselves getting into a mini-battle with both the Goblins and their father; and third, they had been injured and then caught and then taken to their father's ship.

The final thing that he thought about was what had happened between his father and his blasted Goblins; each and every Goblin who had been involved in their capture had surrounded the man then had started congratulating him. About two minutes of congratulating had been done before one of the Goblins, who had gone off somewhere just after the congratulating started, returned and then said something about their mother's car, which had still been parked in the parking lot that was beside the dump.

He had no idea where his father was or what he was doing; not only had he not come in when he and his brothers had been sent to his camp but he had also not spoken a word on what was to happen after they were safely in his ship.

"Your coat," Bile said after Lhaklar started mumbled. "Take it off—you'll overheat with it on."

"Okay," Hazaar speedily removed his coat then threw it; it landed just a foot outside of the bathroom."D-do you think th—"

"Now go get yourself a drink from the faucet. Keep hydrated. We've all had a hard run and fight—we need to keep ourselves calm, cool, and hydrated." Bile said.

"Okay," Hazaar said. He went to the sink then started taking mouthfuls of water from the spigot.

"Use your... oh disgusting! That's how diseases are gained!" Bile grimaced. "Use your powers to get a drink of water—don't risk getting sick from drinking from a bacteria-filled faucet-end."

"I can't use my powers—they can't be used in the ship." Hazaar said.

"Then use your hand. Cup it under the water then drink whatever water you collect from it." Bile said.

Lhaklar, when he woke up, noticed right away that he was sans everything but his underwear—this did not settle well with him! He shot up in the tub then he reached down to see if he was still there—for all he knew, his father might well of decided to punish him by removing his manhood or something. When he found himself as being intact, and then saw that Bile and Hazaar where with him, he sighed; he drank most of the water that was given to him in the twenty minutes that passed, then he used the toilet, then he grabbed one of the towels that were lying on the rack that was to the left of the bathroom door. After dabbing some of the water from his body, and then wrapping the towel around himself, he left the bathroom; of the clothing that he had been wearing earlier he only put his pants, socks, and shoes on—his shirt was in tatters so he decided to not wear it.

Like Hazaar, he had seen the Goblins congratulating his father on a "job well done" and he had also noticed his not following them to his camp and then ship. He was vague on remembering that one of the Goblins had mentioned something about the car; if someone happened on his mother's car, he hoped that said person had a heart in either taking good care of it or in sending it to wherever all of his and his family's stuff was—his mother liked that car a lot and for her to be able to keep it would be a fine act on his father's part.

When he remembered that the apartment had been ransacked of all of their stuff, he looked up sharply; he grew quite fearful for his mother, who knew not a thing of what had happened between them and the man who had either fathered them or had adopted and then raised them as his own.

"Bile, do you have your communicator on you?" he asked.

"No, left it in the car." Bile replied. "Hazaar?"

"I have mine—not sure if it's useful as I fell on it."

"Gimmee," Bile said. Hazaar fished his communicator out from his pants pocket then gave it to his older brother. Bile pressed the button that was on the device's left side at once then held the black box, that had a large, black netted speaker in its center, up to his lips. "Ma... Ma, it's Bile, can you hear me?"

"...ile? Wha... go...n?" Bile and his two brothers came very close to jumping for joy; their mother could be contacted. She was coming in broken but they could get in contact with her... they could tell her all of what was going on.

"Ma, do not go back to the apartment!" Bile said seriously. "It's been ransacked! Dad got into the shield... he took all of our material items."

"She's coming in broken—are we being heard clearly or are we coming in broken too?" Hazaar asked.

"Ma?" Bile said, concern was heavy in his voice. "Ma, did you get that? Ma, pick up please!"

"...ile, h...rd ev...th...ng... you... id. How... you... ow... is? Whe... ur... br... hers?"

"Dad captured us! Lhaklar came home before we did—they were there, waiting! He fought, and then injured, dad then he ran to the dump. He contacted us after reaching the dump—we went to help him; we had this big fight with dad and a bunch of Goblins and Cheshire and Efagti. We're in his ship, ma... they've separated us from Lazeer. They put him in the dungeon—they're treating him horribly!" Bile hoped his mother had gotten all of that; he had said it all as fast as he could as he was afraid that someone would drop service or connectibility in the ship for communicators. "Ma?... Ma, did you get that? Ma!"

"...ot... ost..." the connection was coming in so broken... Bile and his two brothers were starting to get very scared. "...at... bas... tard!... ang... ight... I'm... ming... to... et ... you."

Quite a lot had happened in the last thirty minutes; he had been congratulated on finally bringing his sons in, then he had checked the vehicle that had been noticed in the dump's adjacent parking lot, then he had come back to find the bulk of his family waiting to give him further congratulations on bringing most of his missing family in. The vehicle that he had investigated looked rather old; there was still a gas tank on it and the carriage workings were very retro—if he had to make any guesses, it was one of them early 2000 model cars. The car had, surprisingly, been unlocked so he had been able to open it and then search it for what all items it contained. Another surprise had met him after one of his Goblins had come back with the DNA tracking gun—a simple swipe with the gun had told him that not only had his sons been in the car but that all of the items that were in the car had their DNA on them. His wife's DNA had also been found in the car.

Each of the bags that had been in the car had been removed and then sifted through; each and every one of them had been sent to his place—either the boys had done some shopping for themselves or they had just come from one of them Good Samaritan places that gave away items that were appropriate for ones of their gender and age; the feminine wears, he guessed, must of also been gained by one of them two means.

Since his wife's DNA was present in the car, he had made the decision to go on and send it to the garage that was beside his house—if it wasn't his wife's, or if she didn't want it after being captured and then returned home, he could either send it to the scrap yard or sell it to one of them museums that liked to have vehicles from other planets in their showcases. Even though his sons' DNA was present in the car he was disregarding them in the probable ownership of it—to him, not only were they too young to be smoking, and conducting in other adult-related activities, but they were also much too young to be driving.

After getting past the mob that had been waiting for him at camp he had gone into his ship; the echoes from his sons' yells had been loud, so he had been able to note that they were on-board and fine—just throwing a fuss over being captured and just voicing their "displeasure" in being separated from the Reezal boy... just the normal stuff was going on that he didn't need to put but so much concern to.

Once in his ship, he had gone straight to the medical chamber; the tattered remains of his coat had been removed, then his tuxedo had been removed, then he had gotten on the table. One of his Goblins had been at the panel, tapping out the commands; he had instructed the man to not let the table heal the injuries that were present on his arm and leg just before the glass dome doors were slid into place. The Goblin had obeyed his order; a majority of his injuries had been tended, an assessment of his health had been done, then he had exited the table. A trip to the chamber that he had self-appointed as his bedroom had been done next; the towel that he had worn around himself had been discarded, a shower had been taken, then a dark gray tuxedo, that had a light gray vest over a white, long sleeve, button down shirt that had bell-like laced cuffs on its ends, had been donned.

Before leaving the chamber, he had taken a short belt up from one of his dresser drawers; no, he wasn't going to become his father—he wasn't going to be continually disciplining his sons with a belt. It was just this one time that was to use a belt; he had no further plans to use what he was planning on using on them again after this one-planned use.

"One has to know when and how to use such tools as a disciplinary means on their children," he had thought after taking the belt up from its drawer.

And he believed that he had a right in this one use; a belt had been used on him too damn much when he had been growing up... not only was he not going to turn into his overly disciplinary father but he was to try his damnedest to not ever use a belt on his children again. No belts of his were to wear a tag that said Bile's, Lhaklar's, or Hazaar's Medicine and no permanent marks would be made to his offsprings' backsides. Not only was he to use this belt once but he was also to burn it after it was used—he wanted no memory of its usage and he wanted no souvenir of what was to happen either.

Just after Lhaklar's and Hazaar's capture, and then escape, he had asked his stepfather about how one went by properly disciplining their male children; according to Cheshire, it was okay to use a belt when its use was absolutely called for— _if the child's being especially unruly, or is causing, or has caused, intentional harm to another, that's when the use of a belt should be considered_ , was what the man had said on the subject of one using a belt as a means of disciplining their children. He had been fast in thinking up the fact of normal discipline being given when a child of the male gender is neither being unruly or causing, or has caused, intentional harm to another. If Homsi or Eldass had been in his camp, or in his ship, he would of asked them what they thought was appropriate to use on a child when discipline was needed to be given—with both men coming back with more than enough injuries on their bodies, and with their being sent home on Temporary Leave, he couldn't ask them a thing.

Two checks, consisting of the same amount of $2365, had been sent to the two men for their work-related injuries; with Homsi walking around in a daze, and looking to be shielding his sides from any sort of passerby contact, and with Eldass wheezing, and unconsciously complaining about his chest and stomach hurting him, he had made the decision to send them home. Losal Khrelan had also been sent home; after seeing the wounds that his son had inflicted on the Goblin, and then noting how succumbed the Goblin had been to his injuries, he had decided to forgo keeping him in his camp.

After leaving his bedroom chamber, he went straight to his ship's communications deck; everything, from telephone to communicator to screen, had been turned off—only he, who knew the commands to the panels and the many pass-codes that went to them, could turn them back on. Only after the disciplining of his sons for their actions against him and his staff, and then taking up position in the apartment that his wife and sons use to live in, and then taking his wife captive, happened would they be turned back on.

His plan, after the disciplining of his sons was done and over with, went something like this: he'd go back to the apartment as a single person, then he'd wait for his wife, then he'd talk to her some after she came "home", then he'd take it from there on what to do. If she put up a fuss on being removed from the planet, he'd put in a mild fight to subdue her; if she went willingly then, well, he'd just be as happy as could be. If a fight was encountered, and if it wasn't mild, he'd shoot her with a sleeping dart; one way or another, he was to get his family and then get off the planet that day.

He'd find out about the Reezal boy later, after the drive home was started and after all of that day's events had been allowed to cool out; he had been on the planet for too long, he had seen, captured, talked to and then seen his sons escape too much, it was time for his family to head back to where they belonged.

The Goblins that were standing before the door that belonged to the room that his sons had been put in stepped out of his way right after he stepped to within a foot of them; only one of the five approached him and that was Abevo Speelin. He merely looked at the Goblin as he reached into the right side pocket of his pants.

"They tried to bring the door down, sir." Abevo relayed the happenings of what had happened during his absence. "Young Master Bile and Lhaklar, that is."

"Thank you, Abevo." TazirVile said. He pulled the key out from his pocket, then pushed it into the lock, then gave it a single twist. "Keep your post—I'll only be a short while before exiting. Be ready to have another member of my family to guard—I'll be leaving to retrieve my wife soon after I'm done with my sons."

"Yessir," Abevo bowed politely.

She had been feeling off for the past forty minutes; something had just not been settle with her and both she and her friend had known it. With her not hearing a word from her sons since leaving the apartment—she had figured that they were just having too much fun in their outings to concern themselves about calling her to tell her what was going on—, and with her being a little more than a little late in coming home—time had just slipped away from her—, and with her just finding out about what had transgressed between her sons and her husband, she wasn't in the best of moods.

Despite the events that had just been told to her, her and Casey's day had gone well. She had spent a little money on herself—had bought herself two shirts, and then a bracelet—then she had followed her friend to a few bars. A few drinks had been consumed, a few, friendly flirts had been done, then they had left. If Tazir had been around, or had asked her what she had done while being in the bars that she, and her friend, had visited, she would of just said said that she and her friend had acted as any other, innocent adult would—no over-flirting had been done; no over-shaking of the hips, or sticking out of the ass had been done; no men had followed her or her friend to their car; and no numbers had been given out.

After their outing in the bars had come to a close they had gone to one of the movie theaters next; Atlantic City had more than two movie theaters but, of them many theaters, only two showed older films and had a more authentic, older appearance to it—the Old and Ancient Reels movie theater was where they had spent most of the rest of their trip in. The movie Womb, that had been released in 2010, and that starred Eva Green and Matt Smith, had been seen first; one of them old Alfred Hitchcock films had been the second film that they had seen while the third had been Twister. The fourth film that they had seen had been one of the ones that the current generation liked to watch. She hadn't been all that interested in the fourth film—it had been full of computer animated effects, and the sound quality, and acting, had been terrible. The floor had been what she had watched during the hour and forty-five minutes that the movie had been shown; when the fourth film was done in being played, she and her friend had gotten up and then left the theater.

She was glad that there were theaters out there that showed the older films; to her, them types of theaters, that showed films that seemed more real, and that had a gritty, or raw, feeling to them, were better than the ones that showed the more current films. She, in a lot of ways, was considered old and ancient by the humans; she didn't have a liking for the films that had been made from 2050 onwards.

After seeing the films, then leaving the theater, she and her friend had found themselves ravenous—with their having seen four films they had completely missed out on having lunch. Casey had treated her to a meal at one of the city's Chinese restaurants; their meal had been ordered, then their seats had been taken, then nothing had been said to one another. It was really at this time where she had started getting that feeling again. She had managed to finished her fried rice and chicken but she hadn't been able to touch her Fujian thick soup, which had consisted of chicken, shrimp, noodles, garlic, carrots, celery, and onions. A plate of Mantou, a Chinese dessert item that was nothing more than steamed bread that was served with a dish of condensed milk, had just been placed on their table when the feeling had started growing thicker. The question of whether her friend would be so kind as to take her home had been asked right after the meal had been eaten and then paid for; with the way that she had been feeling, she had wanted to do a quick checking on her sons.

"And now you're finding that your feeling was right on the money," she thought angrily.

Casey had just gotten through in entering the tunnel that led away from Atlantic City, and that connected Atlantic City with South Pass City, when her communicator went off; Bile's words had come in strong... they had come in clearly but, for some reason, her replies had been broken. All of what he had told her had been heard; she knew of the apartment being robbed, and of the fight that he, his brother, and their father and his Goblins had had, and that he and his brothers had been captured. After the signal between her and her son had died out she had looked at her friend; an apology for her leaving in the way that she was had been made then she had teleported.

She appeared behind some bushes, that were directly behind her Universal Husband's ship, two seconds later.

"You can take our things... you can enter the shield, then do as your merry heart pleases, but, when it comes to my babies, and their well-being—" Angel thought angrily.

Instead of rushing to the ship, then going in and causing a ruckus, and possibly getting herself captured in the process, she decided to change her form into something that wouldn't be noticed; the animal that she picked to transform into was a Dragonfly. The glow that came off of her was pink and very normal, as was the energized breeze that flowed from her; once her form was gained she was off. Except for her wings and eyes, which were emerald, she had a fiery red body—due to being so small, this wouldn't be noticed by anyone.

Once at the ramp, then at the stationed airlock hatchway doors, she waited; she simply hovered above the doors—when a Goblin left the ship, she wasted no time in going in or in going down the hallways. She didn't take in any of the ship; not only did she knew its design very well but she was concentrating on just the retrieving of her sons. There was a yelling sound coming from down the hallway that went to her left; a hysterical crying sound was coming from the hallway that was to her right. After hovering in place for a second she decided to go down the hallway that the crying was coming down.

She flew by several Goblins; no one bat an eyelash at her, which she was damn glad for—if someone had noticed that there was a bug in the ship, and then taken a good look at her, she would of had to drop her form and then fight in the form that she had been born as having.

Angel flew down the one hallway then made a turn; she followed the crying until, finally, she reached a metal door—which had a small bit of space between it and the floor. She dived down, then flew under the door, then hovered in place on the other side. She was in the dungeon; the crying had taken her straight to the dungeon in her Universal Husband's ship. It was still very much the same; her husband had gotten the best of cells in the Universe to be put in his ship... unless the key was in one's possession, no one could escape from them. There were just three cells in the room; all were gold and all had a wooden floor that had a burnished copper finish to it. There were some whips, and a sort of whip-like lasso, which was nothing more than a restraining tool, hanging down from the hooks that were on the room's far off wall; a cabinet, that housed all sorts of torturing devices, was beside the hooks. A long, stone table, that had four, silver-painted chairs, that had burgundy cushions on their seats and backs, was a distance from the room's cells.

She had just taken in the dark brown leather chair, that her husband sat in when he was interrogating his prisoners, when she saw movement in the first cell. After seeing this movement, she dropped her form then rushed forward.

"Lazie!" Angel exclaimed. "Lazie-Boo!"

"Mommy!" Lazeer cried. He stood up, then ran a few feet, then stopped; Angel noted that his arm was behind held back—upon closer examination, she saw that he had been cuffed to the cell's far back wall. "Mom...help! Help me please!"

"I will, honey. Don't you worry." Angel said. She started looking around for a key to the cell that her youngest son was in.

"Do you have any drops on you? Anything at all?" Lazeer asked. "I used the last of what I had on me then... then the sun c-c—"

"I have nothing on me, honey." Angel replied. "Do you have your Visine Tears on you?"

"No, th-they to-oo-k them." Lazeer was near to crying again.

"Sit down, baby. I'll get the key... you'll be free soon. Sit tight and calm down okay. Breathe deeply."

She looked all over the room; under the table, on the table's surface, then she ran her hands along the walls before checking the hooks and then the cabinet. There was no key in the room that went to the cell; there was a place where a key would be hung near the door but there was no key there.

Angel, after realizing that her husband was the one who had the key, turned around; she looked at her son, who was doing his best to calm himself down, then she went over to the hooks. She took one down, then she bent it the best she could—so it could fit into and then be used to pick a lock—then she went to the cell that her son was in. Lazeer calmed down significantly after she inserted the hook into the opening on the lock; it took a few tries before the lock made a clicking sound then, once the lock had been undone, Angel opened the door. She walked in, then went to her son; she gave him a quick hug before going to work in undoing the cuff that was around his wrist.

"I love you!" Lazeer exclaimed. He jumped up, then grabbed his mother in a tight hug. Three kisses were placed to her cheek afterwards. "Mom... you are amazing!"

"One down," Angel said. She gave her son an equally tight hug before turning to exit the cell. "three more to go."

She knew that they'd be seen and that the alarm would be sounded once they were seen; what she hadn't known was that the alarm would be sounded right after they left the dungeon—Kalach had been walking down the hallway right when they were opening the dungeon's door. After taking one look at her, then seeing that she had Lazeer with her, he started yelling. She shot a red beam of energy at the Goblin, who was sent flying at once, then she started using her fists. The two Goblins, who had run up from out of nowhere, either slumped to the hallway floor or were sent flying; once the two men were down for the count, she grabbed her son then tore down the hallway.

"What the hell's going on out there!" TazirVile shouted after hearing a commotion on the other side of the door.

"Sir! Mistress Angel is in the ship!" Abevo replied in a shriek. "She has that Reezal kid with her."

"Catch them! Jam the doors—don't let them escape!"

Bile had wasted no time in rushing at their father after he entered the room; he had been allowed to get within two feet of the man before the belt was shown—the brakes had been applied, a veer to the side had been done, then their father had gone in his direction. The belt had been lashed at Bile four times without catching flesh before Lhaklar decided that he had had enough; Lhaklar's intention had been to run up behind their father, then grab him, then dispose of the belt before it could ever be used—instead of that happening he had been grabbed and then swung at. The sound of leather striking flesh had been loud but their brother's yell of pain had been louder. Lhaklar had been the first to get belted; eight swings were given before he was released.

Hazaar had been told that his father had never used a belt on either of his older brothers before; it had just been his hands or voice when it had come to one of them needing discipline... This was the first time that a belt had ever been used on any of them. The use of a belt had made Bile turn into a raging volcano; he, in contrast to his brother, had been scared nearly enough to piss a river down both of his pant legs.

He and Bile had watched as their brother had crawled over to the foot of the bed; Lhaklar was still huddled up against the bed... He was still crying; not only had his pride been hurt but he looked plain scared to death.

Bile had gotten more beltings that Lhaklar; he had rushed forward right after Lhaklar had been released—the stinging sensation of being swung at by a piece of leather had disoriented him enough to tip the Favor Scales in their father's direction. Their father had taken him by the wrist, then had given that wrist a "mild" twist before kicking his legs out from underneath him; the old man had kept Bile down for the entire duration of the twelve swings that he had given him.

Upon being released, Bile had rolled over; he had held his hands up before crawl-rolling away. At the moment, Bile was seated before Lhaklar; like Lhaklar, his pride was broken—he wasn't crying as much as Lhaklar was though.

He had just backed himself up into a corner; the thought of the wall giving him a sort of protection came to him all the while his father was progressing towards him. The commotion in the hallway had only just been heard when his father started towards him.

"Go on—leave here. Go on! Leave the room! Leave me and my brothers alone!" he was thinking. "Please! Go away! Go—leave me! Take your damn belt w—"

No go—his father took no sympathy on him. He lunged in, then grabbed him by the arm, then ripped him out from the corner that he had taken to stand in. He was just giving his father a push when a banging sound was heard on the door; when the push, or the sound of the door being banged on, did no good he tried to pull himself out of the man's grip.

No use, he was quick to note—his father was mad; there was a raging fury behind them goggled glasses that meant business.

Hazaar screamed as his father swung the belt at him; the belt, a simple piece of leather that was used to keep one's pants up, rose then fell eight times—not only did it make a whistling sound on each of the times that it was swung but it also made a meaty thwacking sound each time it struck his body. His buttocks took most of the blows; he received two swings to his hip but the rest of the swings struck his ass. When his father was done with him he released him then stepped back; he reacted by crawling over to the corner, where he both huddled close to the wall and cried his eyes out.

His father was just looking over at Bile and Lhaklar when the door gave way; Hazaar, when he saw his mother, with Lazeer following closely behind her, coming into the room, cried in relief.

"M-m-mommy!" Hazaar cried.

"You stay right there!" TazirVile snapped. He gave each of the three boys that he had just disciplined a look before turning to look at his wife. "Baby,"

"Don't come near him, ma!" Bile yelled. "He's a crazy man!"

"You hush," TazirVile said to Bile. With Bile looking to be obeying him, he went towards his wife. "I was expecting to go and find you myself—instead, I find you coming to me."

"To my sons," Angel corrected. She took in the room's inhabitants for a few seconds before saying anything else. "What have you done to them? Why are they like this and why, for the wonder, was our youngest in the dungeon?"

"I've disciplined them, Angel." TazirVile said strongly. "These boys, here, attacked and fought me and my group of Goblins. What did you expect me to do? Say good job then serve them tea?"

"You expect for them to come to you with open arms after you've—" Angel's eyes lighted on the belt; her demeanor, after noticing the short length of brown leather, changed drastically. "You promised! You promised that you'd never strike at a child of ours, or at Bile, with a weapon!"

"Baby, I had—"

"You broke your promise!" Angel screamed. "You used a belt on my sons!"

"Y... honey I had to. Look, these boys attacked me and my—"

"I don't give a damn! I'd of attacked you as well if you had cornered or chased me!" Angel ran forward; she grabbed the belt then ripped it out from TazirVile's hands. "What makes you think you can touch our boys with this offending thing! How would you like it if I used this thing on you?"

Lazeer chanced a single look behind him; not only were there a ring of Goblins around the door but it also looked like a few of them were wanting to come in to either retrieve him or harm his mother and brothers. With the ring around the door, getting out of the room would be hairy—if his mother was to get him and his brothers out she'd have to fight all of them Goblins to do so.

Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar were all crying; not only were they voicing their pains over being struck with a piece of leather but they were also voicing their fears over their mother getting hurt—their parents were fighting, and quite fiercely too.

Lazeer kept close to his mother; even when she started swinging the belt at his father, he stayed close to her. She struck the man who had made both him, Lhaklar, and Hazaar twice with the whip; the man's hips were struck before the belt was swung low—it was very apparent to everyone that she was meaning to give him a blow between the legs. His father leaped back just in the nick of time then ran forward; he grabbed their mother around the waist then he grabbed the belt—though gentle, he was successful in tearing it from her hands. He ran forward at that precise moment; even though he could only see out of his right eye, and even though he was still in considerable pain from his many injuries, and from his sun-sensitive eye being sun-struck, he was infuriated over the man putting his hands on his mother. Once he reached the struggling pair, he swung his fist; while he struck his father's jaw he also saw stars—his father had done a speedy recovery and then swung at him.

"You fool!" Angel screamed. She shoved her husband back then went to her son; after dropping to his side, she touched his chin. It took her a few seconds before turning to look at the man who had just used his fist against their youngest child's face. "You damn mad fool!"

"I've just about had enough of this!" TazirVile yelled. "Kalach! Abevo! Get your asses in here! Remove this kid—take him to the cells then—"

"No you don't!" Angel screamed. "Not my son you don't!"

"Do as I tell you!" TazirVile yelled at the two Goblins.

Kalach and Abevo had no sooner come into the room before stopping; the rich anger that was blazing in the eyes of their employer's wife told them that they were in for a world of trouble if they came so much as a foot closer to her or the youth that she was guarding.

"You touch a hair on my son's head and you'll be picking your teeth up from the floor and out from the walls!" Angel threatened the two Goblins.

TazirVile stepped forward; he wrapped his hand around his wife's shoulder then started lifting her up from the youth that she was guarding—the given reaction to this stunned both he and his present staff. When Angel's fist flashed at him, then collided with his groin, he moaned then dropped back; his staff gasped, then fell back just a bit from the door that they were standing before. Soon after falling back, then shoving his hands between his legs, he found his wife hovering over him.

Kalach chanced the motion in going forward; he looked down at the youth that he had been ordered to remove from the room—though the thought of removing him from the room came to him he was fast in discarding it. With the situation being as it was, he thought that it was a bad idea to be removing anyone from the room.

As his brother was thinking that it was a bad idea to remove the Reezal boy from the room Abevo was looking at his employer; not only were his employer's hands clamped between his legs but the cords that were in his neck were sticking out. He did not look a single bit happy. The Young Masters had sent up a cheer right after their mother had assaulted their father's groin; all of their mouths had snapped shut after their mother had started talking.

Other than the words, that were being spilled from the boys' mother's mouth, the sound of Lhaklar's and Hazaar's continued sobs was the only other thing that was able to be heard.

"You claim that you've been looking for me and my sons for a long time... I give you clues on where we are then you come here with the intent on hurting us?" Angel said. She had since dropped to her knees; her hands had been shot forward and then wrapped around the lapels of her husband's tuxedo jacket. "You come here to separate me from my sons? From your adopted son and our three biological children!"

"Absolutely not!" TazirVile roared. "I would not and did not have that intention! I—"

"You just said to have our youngest son removed from this room!" Angel gave her husband's face a slap. "That's separating us!"

"Our?" TazirVile said after a few seconds of silence fell between he and his wife. "Who is that child, Angel?"

"I've given you clues that the ones who run the newspapers have been able to figure out but that you can't?" Angel chided. When her husband said nothing, she turned around; she grabbed Lazeer, who was clinging to her back, then she pulled him to where he was sitting beside her. "This is our son! Our youngest! The one who was born at five and a half months gestation... the one who was said to not live for long."

"Honey..." TazirVile pushed himself up then, very gently, pushed his wife a few inches from him. "I—"

"This is our son! LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit!"

The room grew very quiet after the explosion of gasps, all that came from the Goblins who were still positioned by the door, were emitted. TazirVile looked at his wife in a sort of daze before looking at the youth that had just been claimed as being his and his wife's lastborn child.

This was really the first time that he had ever had a chance to get a good, up-close look at him; other than the many injuries that he sported on his face, he looked much the same as he had on the day that he had seen him on Zeta Ren. He hadn't been able to find any records made or placed by a Reezal Bakerly in any of his conducted searches through the known educational facilities of the Universe but he had been able to find a few records made and/or placed by a Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus; yes, it had been pointed out by the newspapers that Reezal Zuduluz Tiefrus was Lazeer Zuluduz Surfeit spelled backwards and yes, he had even noted that Reezal was Lazeer spelled backwards but he had made the notion that the one boy who he had seen on Zeta Ren was his wife's adopted child. Not once in the three months that he had spent on the planet had he considered the possibility that his youngest son was still alive.

TazirVile looked closely at the youngster; there did seem to be something awfully familiar to him—that wasn't associated with his having seen him on Zeta Ren. There seemed to be an old familiarity to the youth... like he had known him for far longer than he thought he did.

"Angel..." TazirVile said. "Lazeer's... Lazeer's..."

"Alive," Angel strained. "This is our youngest son. Our thirdborn. The baby that I took off with when he was only four months old."

"Baby—"

"Do a fuckin' test on him if you don't believe me but don't you dare separate or try to take him or any of my other children from me or try to separate my sons from one another!" Angel exclaimed. "I'll never forgive you if you try it—mark my words I will not!"


	40. Chapter 40

After everything became calm, and after the man who was his father left the room, he had felt no pain in his eye; he had continued as he was for all of ten minutes before the pain returned. When the previous pains that he had been feeling returned, they did so with a nasty vengeance; he collapsed to his knees right after they crept back in then he let out a yell that made just about everyone, from his family to the ones who were out and about in the hallway that was behind the door of the room that he and his family were in, jump for the roof. His mother, instead of getting hysterical, had come over to him; he had been picked up and then gently led over to the bed. He had been told to lie down—something that he had done with no lip.

Hazaar, who had been struggling to control himself, and his hysterics, had a complete emotional breakdown after the ship that they were in was airborne; it took the combined efforts of his mother and two, older brothers to calm him down. Even though Bile and Lhaklar were dealing with their own pains, and with the pure fact of their prides still being broken, they had given as much help as they could in calming Hazaar down.

Their father, for some unknown reason, had driven the ship to around thirty thousand or so miles beyond Earth's orbit before putting it on autopilot; he had left the helm and then come straight back to the room that they were in. A kit had been on his person at the time, so it had been obvious that he had wanted to see who he really was—their mother had given him more than enough stink-eyes during the procedure of his DNA being taken; no word between his parents had been said during the DNA taking process. After having his mouth swabbed, he had had his fingerprints taken; the man had left their company shortly after his prints had been taken.

As far as they knew, there were three guards stationed just before the door to their room; all had been placed there by their father and all had been said to not let anyone out until after they were a "safe" distance from the planet that they had been removed from. Their mother had been fast in discovering that the door had been locked just before the ship had taken off; when they were around thirty-five or so thousand miles from Earth, the planet of their raising, which had so many fond memories to them, the door had become unlocked. No one had bothered in relocking the door after they had reached that distance.

None of them needed to ask where they were going or where they were being taken. They all knew that they were headed towards a galaxy that was a big distance from Earth—the M-51 Galaxy, where most, if not all, of their kin had been born and then raised in and where most, if not all, of their kin lived in.

Sometime after their trip to the M-51 Galaxy was resumed, the ship was put on autopilot again; their father had gone to do something with the communication link-ups—something about his taking a trip to the Communications Deck had been said by one of the men who was stationed by the door to the room. After whatever was done with the communication link-ups was done the man had returned to the cockpit and then resumed driving.

"The Universe is abuzz with activity after the discovery of Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's speedy exit of the planet Earth was made; while no one is sure over what's going on it is speculated that he was successful in finding and then capturing his wife and sons, the youth that he saw on Zeta Ren included in the mi—"

"Sources are saying that TazirVile Surfeit has come off successful in capturing his wife, Angel Irene, and their children, Bile Vile, LhaklarVile Closhu Surfeit, and—"

"Although there has been no pick-up from Mr. Surfeit, it is heavily thought that he has captured the family members that he thought were long deceased. At four o'clock this afternoon he was spotted as leaving the planet that he traveled to and then took up residence on after learning that—"

"Bile, please stop doing that." Angel said to her oldest son, who hadn't only turned the 50" screen on but was running through the channels madly. "You're upsetting your brothers."

"Sorry ma, just wanted to know what's going on." Bile said. He put the long, oval-shaped, black remote, that was seven and a half inches long by four inches wide, and that had all sorts of red and white buttons on it, down.

"Ma..." Lazeer cried. "can you p-please get me s-something for m-my eye? It huh-hurts b-bad!"

Angel looked at her youngest son just as Bile and Lhaklar did; Lazeer's face was streaked with tears and it looked plain painful to view. Other than the tear trails, he had several cuts and bruises on him—his chin, and right cheek, were very black while his lower lip was busted all to hell. Over the last three and a half hours, he had been complaining about a pain in his sides; his ribs, stomach, and groin were all hurting him and she had not a thing on her to give to him that would help him in not feeling so pained.

She knew of the abuse that her youngest child had gone through; Lazeer had really been given the "royal" treatment by both his father and his Goblins... really, in accord to all of her children, they all had. Her anger over knowing that someone had dared to lay a wrong hand on her children was so great that, if a Goblin had walked into the room at that precise moment, she would of pounced and then torn him to bits.

Bile hobbled forward; once he was close to his brother, he started searching through his pockets. Even though he had been told earlier that his brother's bottle of Visine Tears had been taken away he still searched for it—after remembering that the drops had been taken, he wasn't but so surprised over not finding them.

When her youngest child continued to weep, and cry out to her for assistance, Angel stepped away from him; she went straight to the door.

"Who's behind this door?" Bile heard his mother say.

"Abevo Speelin, Mistress."

"Tafan Grazoaran, ma'am."

"I only know one of you out there—Abevo, is Cheshire Ubalki on this ship?" Angel asked.

"Yes, Mistress." Abevo replied.

"I'd like to speak to him—will you be so kind as to bring him to me please?"

"I'll go find him now," Abevo replied.

Hazaar sat upright; over the last three hours and forty minutes, he had gotten himself a little better together. He was able to think clearly and his emotions were nearly under his own control again. He felt foolish; he felt as if he had betrayed his being of the male sex. He had let his emotions get the better of him twice since being in his father's ship—not only had he cried after coming under the belief that Lhaklar had passed away but he had also let his fear wrap around himself after seeing his father coming towards him with the belt. Now that he was a little more in control of himself, he had faith that his mother wouldn't let his father take him away from her or his brothers and he had confidence that his mother wouldn't let anything bad happen to him or his brothers.

Seeing as he had nothing to lose, and since he was sure that his father would rat him out on his being a smoker, he got up from the bed that he had taken to sit on then walked over to his coat. After snatching his coat up from the floor he dug his hand into one of its pockets; the half-pack of Kamel Red Smooth Taste was removed then the coat was simply dropped back to the floor. He wet his lips, then he took in a deep breath, before turning around; he came close to losing it again after going towards his mother and then after sliding the pack of cigarettes into her hand.

His mother merely looked at the cigarettes; she said nothing to him and her demeanor remained as it had been when she had gone to ask who it was that was behind the room's door. It took her a second or two to show any form of emotion—instead of lashing out at him, or getting a mad look to her face, she just looked surprised and, for some odd reason, relieved. Hazaar looked away right after the surprise and relief spread across her face; even though he was confused over the two emotions that she was facially exhibiting he was sure that he was about to get beating number two of the day.

"I had a feeling that one of mine smoked," their mother said. "Been finding cigarette butts in the backyard for a few years now. How long?"

"Three years." Hazaar replied. "I... I don't smoke all the time. Just—"

"Just as a relaxer?" Angel said.

"Yeah,"

Angel looked at her son; even though she had hoped that her sons wouldn't smoke until reaching their adult days she had had a feeling that one of her sons was smoking—not only had she been finding cigarette butts in the backyard of their now former residence but she had also been finding cellophane in the kitchen-appointed trash can and catching the whiff of cigarette smoke on the clothing that her sons wore.

The brand of cigarettes that her son looked to be smoking was a good one; the taste was smooth and it wasn't all that expensive to purchase. Before her father had come to the planet, and then started turning her life upside down, she had smoked Camel brand cigarettes; for fifty years she had smoked that brand before deciding to drop it.

When she turned to look at her son she came close to laughing; here she was, with her face being all soft, and there was her son, who had the look of a child who was pleading to not be disciplined on his face. Angel tossed the cigarette pack to her son then grabbed him; after pulling him towards her, she wrapped him up in a hug. He hesitated for a few seconds before returning her hug. Boys will be boys; they pick things up to try and they learned from their experimenting. She had smoked her first cigarette right after coming back to Earth; she presumed that her son had been much like herself after graduating and then coming home for good—he had been curious about what the sticks, that were hanging out from the humans' mouths, were and he had decided to take the habit up to see what it was all about.

If her son would of said that he was a chain smoker, or that he smoked more than a quarter of a pack a day, she wouldn't of given him his pack of cigarettes back. She would of kept and then discarded them. Seeing as her son had said that he didn't smoke all the time she figured that he was alright in smoking and in filing the experience down in his experience banks.

"Momma, are you mad at me?" Hazaar asked.

"No, not mad. Just as long as you keep it down, and don't go crazy with the habit, you're fine." Angel said.

"Mom," Lhaklar said. "It's not just Hazaar who smokes. He... he picked it up from me. I smoke as well."

"He's the same as me, momma." Hazaar said after his mother turned to look at his older brother. "He doesn't smoke all the time either. Maybe one or two a day."

"Oh, well the same goes to you too. Keep it down and keep it that way." Angel said to her secondborn son.

Since they were exposing their secrets, Bile decided to expose his own. He told his mother that he smoked pot; even though he didn't need to tell her about his pornographic magazine purchases—with his mind being in the area where it was, he forgot all about her knowing that he purchased and then read them types of magazines—he also told her about his using his allowance to get an edition of them once a month. Lhaklar and Hazaar followed in his example in doing the same. Lazeer, though it was a strain, because of all of the pain that he was feeling, also exposed that he smoked whatever he was able to get from his brothers and that he, too, read pornographic magazines.

Their mother was a little hard on Bile for his pot smoking; she gave him a warning to watch what he smoked then she went over to sit beside Lazeer. She told her sons that she'd do all that she could to get their magazines back and that she'd talk to their father about their having and reading such material—even though they didn't speak anything of their fear about not being allowed to have their pornographic magazines back she had detected it. After saying that to her sons, Angel turned around; she had Lazeer sit up. She slid his coat off of him then she had him lie back down. Just as Lazeer was back to being settled on the bed a knock was sounded on the door. Bile watched as his mother went towards the door; his every muscle was tense... if anything had happened, or if anyone had come through the door and then tried to grab, or hurt, her he would of done all that he could to defend her.

"Who is it?" their mother asked after reaching the door.

"Cheshire Ubalki—you asked to speak with me." Bile heard his adopted father's stepfather say.

"What sensitivity do you have?" Hazaar held his breath; he was expecting for a verbal fight to happen.

"Medium-severe, why?"

"Do you mind if I borrow a bottle of your eye drops?" Lazeer sat upright; through the only eye that he was able to see through he looked at his mother. "For my youngest son."

"Hazaar?"

"N... yes, Hazaar."

"Slide them under the door when you're through with them." Cheshire said. A small bottle of clear eye drops was then slid under the door.

Hazaar gave his mother a confused look; he didn't have any problems with his eyes. He could go outside when it was sunny, or when there was cloud-cover in the sky, or when it was raining or storming. No pains or issues were encountered when he was out and about when the sun was blazing its rays down. Neither he nor Lhaklar had any issues with their eyes; they hadn't inherited the ailment that gave Lazeer grief.

Before Hazaar could say anything, Lhaklar reached over; he gave him a tap on the arm then he told him to shut up and to not say a word. Their mother had walked over to Lazeer; she had gotten him to lie back down then she had taken the cap off of the bottle that had been slid under the door. She shook the bottle twice then turned it upside down; a single squeeze did the trick in making two drops drip out from the bottle's nozzle. Even though it had just been the one eye that the drops had been applied to Lazeer blinked both of his eyes; he did so twice before another application with the drops was done.

When Bile walked over, he saw that there were light orange tears coming out from the eyes that were in his youngest brother's face; he grew concerned for only a second before telling himself to calm down. If the drops had hurt his brother he would of said something by now; he would of yelled and then been escorted to the bathroom for a quick eye-washing if the drops had given him more pain than relief. After two more applications, then using her shirt to wipe the orange-colored tears from her son's face, Angel started in on seeing if the drops had done anything to help her son.

"Hi mom," Lazeer said after his face had been wiped of its tears.

"Hello sweetheart," Angel said. She held her hand over his left eye.

"Peek-a-boo,"

"Silly thing," Angel laughed, she then held her hand over her son's right eye.

"I see you." Lazeer said. With this being said, he sat upright then grabbed his mother in a hug. "I can see now—no more half-vision, or pain."

Bile rolled his eyes; it was like Lazeer had been holding it all in until after he was relieved of his eye-related pains and then was able to see through both of his eyes again. His youngest brother got up from the bed; he said a bunch of jokes pertaining to all that they had gone through that day, then he walked around acting all tough, then he sat down—the complaints over his stomach, ribs, and groin hurting him were resumed.

Angel, once her son dropped to his side, then curled up in fetal-position, ran forward; she had just returned Cheshire's eye drops, and had thanked the man for letting her use them—she had done the best she could in not laughing at Lazeer's jokes or antics the entire time that she had been doing so. Once she was at her son's side, she checked him over; she was able to get him to not lie in the position that he was lying in but she wasn't able to help him in getting over his returned pains.

It didn't take long for Lazeer to start saying that he felt ill; to him, it felt like his organs and blood vessels were twisting and turning all around inside him. Before long, he was crying again.

"Lazie, honey, calm down. Tell me what hurts." his mother said as she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"M-my stomach and... and my ribs and crotch hurt ma." Lazeer replied. He sniffled twice before breaking down completely. "Th-they hurt—feels like ev-everyth-thing inside is tw-twisting and t-turning ab-bout."

"Do you feel like you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No,"

"Do you feel like you have to throw up?"

"N-no,"

She didn't want to do it but, seeing as her son was in as much pain as he was experiencing, and seeing that she had nothing on her person, or in the room, to help him with, she stood up then left the room—with their being a distance from Earth now, the Goblins that were stationed at the door neither prevented her from leaving the room or followed her to see where she was going. She went straight to the ship's appointed medical chamber, where she speedily looked for any sort of painkiller or medicines that would aid one in not feeling their pains. When she found none of them types of medicines in the room she tried looking for something that would cause her son to fall asleep—when she found nothing she panicked; she ran out of the medical room then she went straight back to the room that her sons were in.

Her son was still crying... he was still upset because of the pain that he was experiencing—this, in itself, upset her. She had nothing to help her son with and she didn't trust anyone in the ship; after all that had happened that day, she wasn't going to show an ounce of trust towards anyone for a while. Angel thought about filling the bathtub up with warm water then getting her son to soak in it for a while; she thought about simply sitting by her son and talking to him like his brothers were doing. She had no idea if her son had any internal injuries—with his being kicked in the stomach, ribs, chest, and groin, he probably did... and there was no telling what all fractured or broken bones he had in him thanks to the abuse that he had endured at the hands of his father and his Goblins.

"Mom," Lazeer held his hand out. "m-m-mom..."

"I'm here, baby." Angel walked over; Bile stood up, he let her have the spot on the bed that he had been sitting on. Angel sat on the bed then leaned down; she wrapped her arms around her lastborn son then she gently picked him up. "I'm right here, sweetie."

They were all stressed out. It looked like Hazaar was about to start crying; Lhaklar looked to be fighting the tears that were wanting to flow from the undersides of his eyes; and Bile looked as if he was about to crack. She had to do something to calm all of them down; after a moment's consideration, she looked down at Lazeer—due to the location of where his head was, she got an idea on what to do to calm them.

Her youngest son was repositioned a little, then the top buttons on her blouse were undone, then one of her breasts were exposed; even though she placed her hand on the back of her son's head she didn't have to coax him into doing as she wanted him to do. Lazeer was fast in latching on and in taking the milk that was in the breast that she had presented to him.

This was how she had saved his life; if it hadn't been for her natural milk he would not be in her arms at one thousand, six hundred years of age. Her milk had provided everything that her prematurely born son had needed to survive and then grow.

All four of her sons still nursed; she usually milked herself to relieve the pain of her heavy milk sacks—all of what was milked from her was placed in a glass bottle and then stored in the fridge for later. She still nursed her sons the normal way by letting them latch on but, due to their age, and to her fear of their feeling embarrassed by nursing the old fashion way, she only did it when they were ill or when they were overly stressed out. They all knew the rules of how to nurse from her. No biting, that was rule number one; no fighting, that was rule number two; and leave enough for the next brother who wanted a little of her natural milk in his stomach. Lazeer, after taking a little under half of the milk that was in her left breast, unhooked himself then fell back on the bed. He looked at his mother; the corners of his O-shaped mouth curled up before he reached his hand up. He was slow in brushing the hair that had fallen into his mother's face back. He had stopped crying.

"Sir,"

Kalach pushed the heavy steel door of the cockpit open then went into the room that his employer was in. While it wasn't big by any means it did house all of the instruments that any other ship would need in order to be driven safely. The high-back, black chair, that was placed at the room's front, was where his employer was; the man had taken the two belts from the seat's sides and then fastened them well—if anything happened, where he either lost control of the ship, or if the trip suddenly got hairy, he wouldn't be flung all over the place while trying to keep his hands on the wheel. The panel that was before this chair had all of the dials, gauges, and meters on it that any ship-owning and driving person needed to ensure a safe travel—the radar and sonar detection meter was small, but quite bright; the meter that showed the ship's current temperature was a little larger that them two meters but the numbering that was on it was large enough to see without squinting; the meter that showed the water levels was normal-sized, but it also boasted them large numbers on it; the heating and cooling meters were just bars that were either red or blue in color; the fuel meter, which was extremely important to any long-distance trip, was a bit longer than the heating and cooling meters; and the meters that showed how much damage had been sustained to the ship, and how many charges remained in the ship's built-in weaponry, were a little wider, and bigger, than the fuel meter. A series of buttons, or dials, were arranged beneath all of them meters and, beneath those, lay the gauges that aided one in keeping one of the meters at a safe or consistent level. The pressure gauges, dials, and controls were located above his employer's head—if anything happened with the ship's pressure line-ups, or if too much pressure was being applied to the ship, his employer would just reach his hand up and then start "tampering" with the dials, gauges, and controls that were on the ceiling. The window before his employer was large, crystal clear, and crack-free—the latter was very important; if any cracks appeared in the window, or if the window broke, his employer might just be sucked out into space.

"Mistress Angel left the room that she and her sons are in. She seemed rather hurried... frantic."

"Have the results come back on them two tests?" TazirVile asked.

"Yessir, they're waiting for your viewing." Kalach said.

"We've gone a little over eighty thousand miles," TazirVile said absently. He unhooked the belts from around him as he set the ship to autopilot. "I'll continue driving us home in an hour."

The last three hours and forty minutes had been rough for him; he had done as his wife had said in getting the Reezal boy's DNA tested and he had also done as his conscious had told him to do in getting the youth's fingerprints made so they could also be tested. After getting both tests done, then after getting everything put away in their respective cases, he had left the room—his decision to leave his wife and sons alone had not come from his fear of them or of his annoyance over the current situation that had been going on; he had figured that it was the best thing to do as they were all stressed out. He had known then as he did now that his presence, alone, would of made their stress levels grow.

After the tests had been done, and after he had gotten behind the wheel, he had thought hard on what his wife had said; she had been rather upset with him over the fact that he still didn't know who the youngster was and he was rather upset with himself over his not knowing who he was too. He felt as if he had known the boy; he had felt a feeling of familiarity when he had gotten his first close-up view of him. The youth did seem to be rather close to his wife; actually, all of the boys seemed to be rather close to their mother... he admired that. They were still at that age where they were still running to their mother for protection. Although they were exploring the world, and gaining a few experiences under their belts in the process, they still came back to their mother after hearing or seeing something that spooked them. He had seen his wife let Hazaar nuzzle his head up against her own when he had been taking the Reezal boy's DNA and, when he had gone to take the boy's fingerprints, he had also seen Bile and Lhaklar doing the same thing. The Reezal boy, after having his DNA taken, and after having his fingerprints taken, had turned and then hugged the woman who he still thought was no relation to him; he had refused to let her get so much as an inch from him... he had even nuzzled his head up against hers after the DNA and fingerprint taking was done.

Regardless of what his wife said, he still stood firm on his action of disciplining Bile, Lhaklar, and Hazaar; the three had attacked him, and his Goblins, and Cheshire and Efagti, for no reason... they had injured several of his Goblins and they had also injured both him and Cheshire—the man hadn't only had the wind knocked out of him but he had also sustained four broken and cracked ribs after Bile had decided to fall back on him. He had done as he had intended to do with the belt—it had been carted to the ship's lowermost deck and then thrown into the chamber that the fuel was pumped into for the thrusters' use. He knew well of what had happened to it after he had started his ship up—there had been a spark, then a ball of fire had gone off, then the smell of leather being burned had filled the area where the chamber was.

The belt was no more; he still had plans to never use another item like that on his sons as a means of discipline-giving again.

The order for the test results on the two tests that he had done on the Reezal boy had been clear and simple: put them on the coffee table that was in his ship's living room and then walk away. No one but he was to look at them; all eyes could peer at the envelopes that contained their results but no fingers other than his own were allowed to open the envelopes and then remove the pieces of paper that were inside.

As he went towards the stationed living room of his ship he felt as if something was being dragged behind him—there was a heavy presence being felt... not only was it causing him be slower than usual but it was also making him wonder if the results of the two tests were something that he both wanted and didn't want to see.

"He has to be adopted... right? He can't be who she claims he is, right?" he thought as he went down the hall.

What would he do if the results said that the boy was his thirdborn son? Well, for one, he'd be one hell of a happy-yelling man—he'd be yelling and possibly running down the halls happ... no, maybe he shouldn't do that. With there being five persons in his ship who were rather stressed out maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to get a bit crazy.

No, he wouldn't do that. If the results came back as saying that the boy was Lazeer he'd be excited and then he might just reach over to hold hi... no, that wasn't a good thing to do either. The boys were already nervous around him; no need to make them become even more nervous, or distrustful, of him.

Maybe he'd just grab the results then head to the room; he'd view them then he'd try his best to remain calm afterwards. If the results came back saying that the boy wasn't his thirdborn son—was just an unrelated boy—he'd just say nothing. He'd nod his head, then accept the results, then leave the room; he'd go back to the cockpit then continue with the trek in taking them home. He wasn't going to separate the boy from his wife—it was quite evident that they had a very close relationship... if he separated them then he'd be no better than his father. He'd be a monster; he'd be depriving his wife of someone that she had raised since possibly birth and he'd be depriving his sons of the boy that they had come to know as their brother. He'd accept the results then raise the boy as his own; he'd do exactly as his wife had done with Eshal and with how he had done with Bile for the six hundred years that he had been living under his roof.

TazirVile, when he reached the opening that led into the ship's living room, stopped. He took in a deep breath—just a little something to calm his nerves—then went in.

"Still the same... even after all of these years it's still the same." he thought after entering the room.

The fireplace, which sat before two couches, was stone-made; the cool-to-the-touch mantle had holly and spell-made ferns hanging from it. The chain-mail that hung before the fire pit kept any curious youngster from reaching in to toy with the fire that may or may not be waging behind it. A steel wood holder, that five wood logs were piled up all nice and neat in, was to the left of the fireplace.

The couch that his eye was driven to first was red in color; it was a fainting couch that had cost him a good lot of money. A coffin-shaped, dark gray couch sat across from the fainting couch; between them sat a glass coffee table that sat on black accent legs that were quite sturdy. Over near the right-side wall stood a red chair and ottoman; above the chair was a taxidermied head of a large species of bat that he had taken down on Moas some thousands of years ago. There was a Gothic floor lantern in each of the room's four corners. Two more were placed on either side of the fainting couch. A large, yellow-domed light was in the center of the room's ceiling; it and the floor lanterns were keeping the room well-lit. There were photographs of him and his children on the walls; a photograph of him and his wife was above the fireplace. He was holding her close to him, she looked happy in his arms. Off on the right side of the room were two photographs of him and his older half-brother, Kuruk.

On the glass coffee table sat an all gold Moas telephone that had semi-precious gems all over it; a stack of books were placed right beside the phone while, beside them, was a small stack of magazines. To the right of the phone sat a big brown-wood box—a wide assortment of chocolates were in it. The box contained chocolates were strictly for after dinner; his wife was rather fond of Moas chocolate... she said that it had a very rich, smooth taste and that it tasted similar to German chocolate—he had made sure to have more than a single chocolate tray of Moas chocolate placed in the box before leaving Moas for Earth.

He stopped after noticing the box of chocolates—maybe his wife would like some of the chocolate that he had brought along especially for her. Should he, after reading the results of the two tests, give her a couple of pieces as a way to show her that he still loved her and that he was trying to calm her down?

He shook his head; while keeping that in mind he went forward. His mother, stepfather, younger full-sister, and Eshal were all seated in the room; they were all staring down at the envelopes that the results from the two tests were in. He went to the table, then looked at the people who were "studying" the two envelopes for a second or two, then bent down to pick the two envelopes up. With the envelopes on his person he turned and then left the room; not a word or a sound was said between he and his family... really, there was no need for them to say anything—everyone knew what the other was thinking. Everyone was wondering what the results said.

"Bile, honey, please turn off that tv." Angel said again. This was the third time that she had asked for her firstborn to turn the tv off. Bile and Lhaklar were ten minutes done in nursing from her; even though they had been calmed down significantly Hazaar and Lazeer had not been. After her two, younger sons had started getting fussy, and nerve-acting, she had asked for them to come to her; she had let them nurse from her again. At the moment, she was lying down on the bed; the pillows had been propped up to cushion her back. Lazeer was nursing from her left breast while Hazaar was on the right one. "Lhaklar, you feeling alright? You look a bit pale over there."

"Space sickness, nothing more." Lhaklar said.

"If you have a need—"

" —the bathroom's a short walk away." Lhaklar finished for his mother. "I know."

"Bile, how're you feeling over there?" Angel asked her firstborn.

"Ankle hurts. Chest hurts. Backs, sides, and shoulders... ah hell! Everything fuckin' hurts ma!" Bile exclaimed.

"Take a seat—rest up." Angel said.

Bile did as he was told; he went to the bed that his mother and brothers were on then sat down. Lhaklar, who was standing by the room's adjacent bathroom, was fast in succumbing to his queasiness; he rushed to the bathroom then threw the toilet lid up. Angel listened keenly as he got sick; even though she was in a near-panic with her concern about her sons she was doing her best to keep herself grounded.

She had been told about the fainting episode that Lhaklar had had; along with the sudden drop in adrenaline, and his many injuries, he had gotten overheated—this had triggered a response for him to go to sleep. Now that Lhaklar was getting sick she had a new thing to add to her concern list; first was the fact that her sons were still injured, and weren't being tended for their injuries, and the second was how nervous they were, and of how emotionally wrecked Hazaar and Lazeer were, and now was the concern of their getting sick while on the way back to Moas.

After returning to the room, she had decided to not leave it again; she feared that one or more of them would get up and then start wandering the ship, looking for her after finding themselves missing her.

Angel started rocking back and forth; when Lhaklar came out of the bathroom he came straight over to the bed that she and his brothers were on. He was taking a seat beside Bile when she started humming—this action of hers caused all four of her sons to calm down. Bile and Lhaklar leaned over; they placed their heads on their mother's shoulder then, just before their father entered the room, they gave her a kiss on the cheek. She was returning the given kisses when her husband entered the room.

The progress that she had made was shattered instantly; all four of her sons grew tense at once. Angel placed her hands on Bile's, and then Lhaklar's, shoulder then she placed her head up against Hazaar's and Lazeer's own—the two had since stopped nursing. They went back to nursing right after she gave them some comfort.

"Honey... you still produce milk for the boys?" TazirVile asked after walking into the room and then seeing the scene that was going on on one of the beds.

"Yes, and I still let them nurse from me." Angel replied.

"I have the results from the tests," TazirVile said. He held the two envelopes up.

"Look at them then," Angel snapped.

She was having a time with Hazaar now that his father was in the room; he had gone from being calm and content to being nervous again. Lhaklar and Bile sat up to give her some space—and so could calm their younger brother, who they were more than a little worried about. Their brother was turning his head in their father's direction right when the first of the two envelopes were opened; Bile placed his hand on his brother's shoulder—although his touch comforted his brother it only did but so much. Lhaklar rubbed Hazaar's back while speaking to him.

TazirVile was taking all of this in; he was noting the nervousness of both of the younger boys—the results were in his hands... he had yet to read or look at them. In a last ditch effort to calm her son down, Angel pushed Hazaar back then, after having him de-latch from her, she leaned forward then grabbed him up in a hug. Hazaar, with his head held tightly against her own, nuzzled her firmly. He begged for comfort and she gave it—she nuzzled her head up against his then gave him a pat on the back. Lazeer pulled away from her breast; he looked at her then he pulled himself up so that his head could be placed on her shoulder.

With both boys looking to of been calmed down some, TazirVile looked at what was in his hand.

 _DNA sample concludes that there is a 100% match between individual named TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit and the youth tested. Sample shows clear DNA match; anything under 99.99% makes test inconclusive._

TazirVile looked at the youth; the DNA test that he had done—the sample that he had taken from the youth's mouth, and the sample that he had taken out of his own mouth—had been tested and it had come back with a full-on percentage showing that he was the father of the youth that he had seen on Zeta Ren some months ago. With the DNA test results now being read and known, TazirVile stepped forward; when he got to the bed he sat down. Hazaar moved slightly; he looked at him while the Reezal boy remained where he was.

He didn't need to do a DNA test on Hazaar or Lhaklar to know if they were his sons; he knew that they were. Lhaklar scooted over closer to his mother; he looked as if he had gotten sick previously, which did give him a cause to be concerned for him. Bile's muscles looked tense; he looked as if he was about to spring forward at any second if a wrong move on his part was made. With the status of his sons being noted, he opened the second envelope that was in his possession.

If the boy had been born at Cawanuuk Hospital like his wife had claimed he had been then a record would exist of him. It didn't matter if one was born prematurely or on schedule—a set of finger and toe prints were made right after the baby was cleaned up. It was a sure-fire thing that his thirdborn son's hand, finger, foot, and toe prints had been taken—he had been present to watch the process be done before his tiny, and so very early born son had been placed in the pod.

TazirVile, after opening the envelope, then taking the papers that were inside out, looked down at what he had in his hands; he shook all over, and his breath caught in his throat, as he read what the front-lying piece of paper had on it.

 _Unknown youth's prints match 100% with prints taken on February 13, 2499 and 8:35 a.m. from Cawanuuk Hospital, located on Biloxass and Bobass streets. Prints match up with baby born to TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit and Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit; name of baby on file is LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit._

She readied herself; she braced herself for it and, when it came, she had quite a hard time in controlling all four of her sons. Her Universal Husband had gotten the results back; they had confirmed what she had told him and now... now he was both emotional and frantic in wanting to see Lazeer.

Lhaklar and Hazaar jumped off the bed; Hazaar ran over to one of the room's corners then dropped to his butt while Bile lunged in his father's direction before pulling back. Lhaklar simply took half a dozen steps back from the bed before stopping and then standing still. Lazeer, who was still very nervous, slowly turned his head; he looked at his father, who had finally found out who he was, and who was very nearly hovered over him. The two stared at each other for a full minute before any sort of actions happened.

TazirVile, who's face was just about as bright, and who's eyes looked about ready to rain tears, reached over; he placed his hand on his now-known-to-be alive thirdborn son's shoulder then leaned forward. Lazeer shook all over in fear; he pulled away but he stayed with his mother—it was this action alone that gave his father the chance that he wanted in getting a better look at him. TazirVile ran his hand over the single, horizontal row of brick-red hair that was on his son's head before dropping down to plant a kiss to his forehead. Lazeer did nothing more than gasp after being kissed, and then father-hugged.

TazirVile didn't remain in the room for long; after reading the results of the two tests, then giving his son a proper acknowledging, he got up then left. He was fast in both showing the results that were on the two pieces of paper to just about everyone who he came upon and in expressing his emotions afterwards.


	41. Chapter 41

"A stunning turn of events has just been discovered as happening within the ship that's piloted by one named TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit—according to some sources, the actual identity of the Reezal boy, as he has become known by many, has been discovered. Sources have told our station that the Reezal boy is now no longer being called Reezal; he is now known as, and is being referred as being, the thirdborn son of TazirVile Surfeit and Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit—LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit." the room's 50" screen had, once again, been turned on. Unlike the other times, where he had been told to leave the remote to the tv be, he had been given express permission to turn it on. A male Zetakin, who looked tall, and who had light yellow skin and red eyes that were triangular in shape, was reporting. "Even though only two of our calls were answered we were given an assured answer as to what's going on with the inhabitants of the ship that took up residence on Earth in late-August—all four of the boys who were taken in this late afternoon are said to be in good shape and are also said to be doing well. Their mother—Angel Irene Vile-Surfeit—is also said to be doing well. A confirmation from the patriarch of the TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit family was given on the positive identification of the Reezal b—"

He was fast in pressing one of the buttons that were on the remote; the image that was on the screen was swiftly changed. He, and his family, set in on watching what was being said on the channel that he had just turned on.

"A slew of reports are being made on the identity of the Reezal boy, who is said to be no longer called by that name. Upon having our single-placed call answered, we were told that all four boys were on Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's ship and that they are safely en-route to being returned to Moas. Ashaklar Zoopray, the mother of TazirVile Surfeit, was fast in saying that an identity on the Reezal boy had been made and that his true name is that of Lazeer and that he is the final-born son of Mr. Sur—"

The channel was changed again; the channel that took its place had a woman on it. This woman, to him, had an exotic beauty to her. Not only did she have long-flowing black hair but she also had black eyes and a pencil-thin mouth. It took him a short second to get his attention focused away from her.

"While only one of our calls have been answered we have an assured confirmation of Mr. TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit's swift exit of Earth and of his successful retrieval of not only his four sons but also his wif—"

Once again, the channel was changed. A sort of growl escaped the brother that was to his immediate right; everyone else remained quiet.

"—there was much activity noted behind Surfeit Manor today after ShaamVile Kondee Surfeit was noted as being back from his lengthy stay on the planet called Earth. A flurry of reports claim that LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit has been discovered as not only being very alive but also well—all sources say that the reports are true." the man who was now on the screen was very ugly; his green-colored skin looked a bit wet, it looked like he had tentacles for hair, and he had beady yellow eyes. "ShaamVile Surfeit was seen as not only going towards the cemetery that's behind Surfeit manor, which he use to own and live in, but also ripping up the tombstones that were placed for HazaarVile Tlair Surfeit and LazeerVile Zuluduz Surfeit after they were determined to be deceased. After ripping the stones up, he reportedly shattered them against a tree stu—"

"Nothing slow happens after a certain bit of gossip is spilled." Bile said after turning the tv off. "Been what... an hour and a half... two hours since Lazeer was found to be... well... Lazeer."

"You expect for them to keep anything to themselves?" Lhaklar asked. "Mom—"

"Least it's better than him being known as the unknown youth." Angel said.

Lhaklar and Hazaar were walking around; not only were they calm but they were also trying to get their stiff and sore bodies to not be but so stiff or sore. Bile, in the near-two hours that had passed since Lazeer's identification was made, had done nothing more than play with the room's appointed tv—they had all counted the many times that he had either picked the tv's remote up or had plucked at it or had just nudged it. The guy was bored, as were all of them, but he had gone a bit overboard with his tv-playing—the remote had been played with fifty-seven times.

Their mother had neither deterred them from walking around or from examining any of what was in the room; she was glad to see that they were starting to return to being themselves again.

Lazeer, about five minutes after the room had been vacant their "father"-figure, had gotten up to use the bathroom. After making a few mock-cries of drowning in the toilet, and then of being grabbed by the imaginary monster that dwelled in the tub, he had come out—it had been no surprise to any of them that his joking had continued. Hazaar had done some laughing at the jokes that had streamed from his mouth—up to the state of his hair being pointed out, and then joked about, he had been in a good, cheery mood. It had been no surprise that the fists had started flying after the jokes on Hazaar's messy hair were said—their mother had been fast in placing herself between them and in grabbing their hands so that no further damage was inflicted on themselves.

The Goblin named Abevo had come in to see if everything was alright; after hearing the fight that had been going on between Hazaar and Lazeer, he had grown concerned that one or the other of them had become injured—that or he had just plain wanted to stick his nose in something that it shouldn't of been put in.

The second that Lazeer had seen the Goblin he had said something pertaining to the troll who hid under the bridge in the story The Three Billy Goats Gruff; all of them had been able to note that Mr. Abevo had been offended by their brother's words. Their mother had left the room for only a second to explain her son's actions; although the man had said that he had understood her, she, and, really, they, had a feeling that Lazeer hadn't made a good, first-time impression on the man. At the moment, Lazeer was sitting on the bed; he was still experiencing his ribs, stomach, and groin pains but he was pretty much acting like his old self.

"I think Bile found his new girlfriend," Lazeer said after Bile had, once again, picked the remote to the room's tv up again. "He just can't resist putting his hands on the remote to that nice, big tv."

"I swear, if someone doesn't shut him the hell up I'm going to throttle him." Hazaar grumbled. He was very annoyed.

"How many throttles does it take to fuel up an engine for a craft like this?" Lazeer asked.

"Good question," Lhaklar replied. Bile winced; his brother had fallen into one of Lazeer's many laid traps. "Probably—"

"Just as many as it took to make your ugly mug!" Lazeer exclaimed. He then laughed.

"If my mug's ugly then so's yours." Lhaklar replied a few seconds later.

"Good comeback, Lhaklar." Bile said.

"Yeah, just as good as Bile's was when ma came home to find all of her just-made brownies gone." Lazeer said.

Surprisingly, none of them were hungry. Not a peep had been said about their wanting food and that went double for anything to drink. They had either walked around or had sat and laughed as Lazeer ran his mouth or had watched as Bile fiddled with the tv's remote.

Lazeer was about to say another joke when the door to the room was opened; he forgot all about spinning jokes, that would either make his family laugh or make one or more of his brothers grow annoyed with him, after his father entered the room. Bile, who's ankle had swollen to nearly twice its size, was forced to remain seated after the man came into the room; with his ankle being in the state that it was in, he hadn't been able to join Lhaklar or Hazaar in walking around the room.

The man who was his father walked right up to his mother; he didn't bother with closing the door—it stayed just as open and as inviting as could be behind him. Due to the door's condition, they could see that Abevo had left his post. Just as their father was within a foot of their mother, their mother gasped and then grabbed at her abdomen. She was close to collapsing when the light blue hand, that belonged to none other than their father, was placed to the part of her body that she was holding. One second, their mother was pain stricken and, the next, she was pain-free.

Bile, despite his swollen and aching ankle, and Lhaklar had gotten nervous after their mother had started exhibiting the signs of her abdomen hurting her; they had taken two hurried steps forward before stopping. After placing their hands on their mother, then asking if she was okay, then getting a yes-answer to their question, they backed away.

Their father, who had taken a step back to let Bile and Lhaklar come forward to express their concerns over their mother, said nothing for a short while. He was looking at Lazeer, who was standing about five or so feet from him.

"Baby, if you'll please follow me—it's been a while... I'd like to get any and all injuries that're on the boys fixed up." TazirVile said.

"Sure, just go slow." Angel said. She gave Bile, and then Lazeer, a quick glance before saying anything else. "Don't need nor want any of their injuries aggravated."

"Of course, my love."

"Please don't say that number f—"

"Shut up Lazeer!" Hazaar snapped.

As he took his family down the hallway, towards the medical chamber, he took note that Lazeer, just like his school records had mentioned, had a tendency of being a bit of a jokester. He also noted that the boys had a normal sibling rivalry between themselves, which he was glad for.

Hazaar, who was gripped by the Temperamental Phase, had a way of being a bit too extreme with his anger-induced outbursts—he snapped at his younger brother four times while on the way towards the medical chamber then he gave Lhaklar and then Bile a shove after they said something about his being "too slow". With his only just finding out that his youngest son was still alive, he didn't know if he was experiencing the phase or not.

Angel kept all four of the boys in line. Whenever one went a little too overboard she'd come in to get him to behave; when Hazaar shoved Lhaklar, then caused Bile to yell after pushing him from behind, she was fast in telling him to not push his brothers and in apologizing to them. Angel was mostly quiet with Lazeer—she only chided him once, and that was for his picking fun at one of the silver-painted bats that were hanging on one of the hallway walls. Lhaklar was mostly quiet during the trek from room to medical chamber; Bile only spoke when spoken to or when Hazaar pushed him.

Bile, Lhaklar, Hazaar, and Lazeer didn't follow him or their mother down the hallway in a line; they were nearly walking on top of their mother, which was causing a bit of a traffic jam to happen in the hallways that they walked down.

Once they were in the medical chamber, TazirVile found himself experiencing a sort of repeat from when he had taken Lhaklar and Hazaar to the room in October.

"Alright—Bile, you're first." TazirVile said.

"I do _hate_ being the oldest at times." Bile grumbled. He then started the process of removing the remnants of his pants.

TazirVile's eyes came close to bursting from both their sockets and from behind the lenses of his goggled glasses; Trobrencus had spoken a great deal of the muscle that was on his adopted son's body and he, up to now, hadn't believed it. He was now facing the fact of what he had been told.

Bile had one hell of a well-muscled body; his chest was thickly muscled, he had a very powerful six-pack, and some very big, and very finely muscled, arms. His lower half was a little less extreme in muscle—to one who was just giving the boy a passing glance, this would of been overlooked and fast. Bile looked strong, fast, and powerful.

TazirVile had Bile slide onto the automated medical table; once the boy was in position, he swung the domes over the youngster then started the process of tapping the buttons. Angel had since gone around to the table's other side. Bile's full attention was on her; he winced only twice before the command for the table to give him a dose of the pain reliever was given. Once the pain reliever was administered, the youngster went as quiet and as calm as could be.

After all of his adopted son's injuries had been tended, and then healed, TazirVile had the table run a physical exam on him. When the green lights stopped rolling up and down Bile's body the glass domes released; he was fast in rolling off the table.

"I did a small teleportation move a few hours ago—we'll be home shortly." TazirVile relayed to his family. He was holding a large towel out for Bile to take. Bile looked at the towel for a few seconds before taking it; he wrapped it around his body once before tying it about his waist. Angel was fast in directing him to go stand by the door; he was obedient with her given instruction. With Bile's injuries treated, he turned his attention to his and his wife's first-made son. "Lhaklar, you're next."

Lhaklar did as he had on the first time that he had been in the room and then on the table; he undressed himself then leaped onto the table—his head was shook a few times, and his body broke out in a sweat, after the lasers started working on the various injuries that he had on him before the pain reliever was given. Like with Bile, he went calm and quiet after having the pain reliever given to him.

Angel had done as any other mother would after seeing their child being in an enclosed area and in being stressed while being in that enclosed area—she had grown nervous after seeing Lhaklar's body break out in a sweat and after seeing their son's head being shook.

After the table had done its job in getting Lhaklar's various injuries healed, a physical exam was done then the suction on the dome doors was undone; the doors slid down then Lhaklar sat up. TazirVile said nothing after seeing his son going towards his mother; he just gave the boy a towel then turned his attention towards Hazaar, who was standing off by his lonesome by one of the room's white cabinets.

"Momma," Hazaar said weakly.

"C—"

"Get on the table, Hazaar." Lhaklar said.

"Lhaklar—" TazirVile said in a starting chide.

"Come here, Hazie. Lhaklar, you hush." Angel was fast in saying.

There was a small verbal exchange between his wife and their firstborn son; Lhaklar had tried to take over as being the adult and Angel, being one of the two adults in the room, but being the one that the boys seemed to take firm command from, would have none of it. Lhaklar was fast in going over to where Bile was two minutes after the exchange was over; Bile, in response to the verbal exchange that had been experienced between his brother and mother, glared at him.

Hazaar was slow in undressing himself of everything that he was wearing then, in equal slowness, he got on the automated table. The glass dome doors of the table had no more been shut and then sealed before he started flopping around; he panicked, which caused his mother to have a bloody damn nervous breakdown.

Angel tapped on the glass to get her son's attention then, when that didn't work, she started talking to him; when that didn't work she simply slapped her hand to the glass of one of the dome doors. Lhaklar was fast in yelling at his brother; he said for him to both pipe down and to cool it, which had absolutely no effect on the table-contained boy.

In the end, TazirVile had to do as he had on the first time that his secondborn son had been on the table; the button to the table's elastic bands was pressed, then the pain reliever button was pressed, then the button that gave the table the command to administer the calming agent was pushed in—Hazaar went as calm and as still as could be after all of this was done. It was only after the elastic bands had wrapped around Hazaar's arms and legs that the table was able to tend his injuries. After the table had healed Hazaar up, and after a physical exam was done, the dome doors were released; Hazaar leaped off the table then hid behind his mother the second he was free.

"Calm down, sweetie." Angel said after turning to face her thirdborn son. "It's all over. There's nothing to be afraid of—it's just a table that's equipped with some lasers that fix up injuries."

"He alright?" TazirVile asked. After releasing his son from the table, then watching him run behind his mother, he had walked around the table; he was standing just behind his wife now.

"He'll be fine," Angel replied. When she glanced behind her, she saw that her husband had a towel in his hands. She was fast in turning around and in taking the towel from him. "Here, you let me have this."

He let her have the towel; not only was she fast in giving their son the towel but she was also fast in telling their son to stand next to his brothers. At first, Hazaar was reluctant to do as he was told; he stuck by her side for a few minutes then, after being told to go stand by his brothers two more times, he did as he was told.

Lazeer, when it came to his turn to be on the table, flat out refused to come forward; he stayed back by the wall... by the glass counter that had taken the place of one of the room's white-painted wooden cabinets a couple of years ago. He only came forward after his mother came to retrieve him.

TazirVile marveled at how well his wife was in handling the boys; she had managed to get Hazaar under control, then had managed to get Lhaklar to be obedient, and she had also calmed her sons when they had become nervous. It took her all of thirty seconds before Lazeer both calmed down then started the process of removing his clothes. Though slow in removing his clothes, and in approaching the table, he made no further fusses or trouble.

TazirVile, once his youngest son's body was unveiled, had a hard time in keeping the cry of shock from coming out; his lastborn son, though born prematurely, had no body that was sickly or malformed. This son of his had a body that looked much like Hazaar's—it was lean and it had some good muscle on it. His youngest son had a good, hard chest and a nicely developed six-pack. His arms were very nicely muscled, as were his legs. His back was what showed his youth; it had some muscle on it but, for the most part, it was smooth.

After getting on the table, then being "prevented" from leaving after the domed doors were shut on him, the commands for the table's arms to go to work were made. In all, it took five minutes for the injuries on his son's body to be healed. Once the injuries on his youngest son's body were healed, and once the physical exam was done, the command for the table to release its patient was made; Lazeer sat up, then turned around, then jumped down right after the glass dome doors had swung down.

"So, how many puppies did I make with my wife—Mrs. Auto-Table Surfeit?" Lazeer asked. After his eye lighted on the towel, that was being held out to him, he went over then retrieved it himself. He was fast in wrapping the towel around his bottom half; with himself now somewhat clothed, he went towards his mother, who was standing by his father.

"Not a one," TazirVile said. He was giving a series of commands to the table's on-board computer; the results to Lhaklar's and Hazaar's physical exams, and injury assessments, had already been printed out and then read. He was now working on getting his and Bile's physical exam and injury assessments printed out.

"Darn, I'll have to try harder next time." Lazeer said.

"You idiot, you don't make babies with a table." Hazaar said.

"Really, what was that green light that came off of me?" Lazeer asked.

"Noxious gas," Bile said. His brothers and mother laughed; his father chuckled.

"That was _your_ noxious gas; mine comes out smelling sweeter."

TazirVile fought the urge of bursting out in a gale of laughter; not only was he thrilled in having the whole of his family, all four of his sons, and his wife, in his possession again but he was having a time in keeping his son's jokes, and joke-like nature, from getting to him. It looked like his youngest son had a way in making one laugh—Bile and Lhaklar were particularly effected by his given jokes while Hazaar looked to be the least effected.

The screen of the table's computer monitor went black for a second before a hissing sound was heard; the ship's appointed medical table died right then and there for absolutely no reason at all. With the table not being able to be used, and with its stationed computer looking to be fried, TazirVile worked to get the saved results to be sent to the room's stationed printer—though it took him a while he was successful in getting the results from both of the exams that had been done on his adopted and then thirdborn sons sent to the printer.

Just as the two pieces of paper slid out from the side of the room's printer, and then were in his hands, his youngest son said something about Bile's rear end—this must of gotten under Hazaar's funny bone; he started laughing wildly at what was said of his brother's bum.

TazirVile looked at his wife, who shook her head; he gave her a smile before looking down at the results that were from Bile's and Lazeer's physical exams.

 _Medical Chamber 1A Injury Assessment  
_ _Patient: Vile, Bile  
_ _Time: 8:27:43 p.m._

 _Patient's Age: 2,200 years  
_ _Patient's Height: 6'3"  
_ _Patient's Weight: 250 lbs  
_ _Patient's B. Type: Body builder, no body mass fat detected  
_ _Brain Activity: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Lung Health: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Heart Rate: Normal  
_ _Physical Defects Noted: None, table could find none on body  
_ _Injury Assessment: Burns on chest, sides, back, stomach and buttocks, fixed. Sprained ankle, fixed._

 _Medical Chamber 1A Injury Assessment  
_ _Patient: Surfeit, LazeerVile Zuluduz  
_ _Time: 8:43:12 p.m._

 _Patient's Age: 1,600 years  
_ _Patient's Height: 6'0"  
_ _Patient's Weight: 181 lbs  
_ _Patient's B. Type: Lean, no body mass fat detected  
_ _Brain Activity: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Lung Health: Normal, nothing abnormal detected  
_ _Heart Rate: Normal  
_ _Physical Defects Noted: Left eye coloration darker then the right, possible defect  
_ _Injury Assessment: Bruised ribs, fixed. Bruised diaphragm, fixed. Bruised left testicle, 50% repaired. Bruises to face, back, arms, legs and stomach, remained, table cannot repair.  
_ _Internal injury assessment: Negative, no internal injuries noted._

"You have four very healthy boys here, Angel." TazirVile said. "I'm very surprised with how healthy Lazeer is."

"You was expecting for him to look like a weakling?" Lhaklar said. Angel had been about to say something pertaining to what her husband had said; Lhaklar had beat her to it.

"No, I wasn't." TazirVile replied.

"Lazeer's very healthy—he just has problems with his eye." Angel said. She gave Lhaklar's arm a tap before telling him to speak not a word more. He obeyed her.

"His exam did show that there's a problem with his left eye." TazirVile relayed. He took a few steps towards Lazeer, who took a step or two back before standing his ground. "He has the sensitivity, right?"

"Yes, he does." Angel replied. "Mild-Severe."

"Have anything for it?"

"N—"

"Use to," Lazeer spoke for himself. "I used the last of my drops earlier today."

"No glass?"

"No," Lazeer replied.

"He's been roasting his ass inside for a while now." Hazaar said. "Won't come o—"

"I can't go out when the sun's out you big lummox!" Lazeer exclaimed. "My eye gets effected by the sun every time I'm out when it's out—"

"He's been a little depressed lately because of his eye. I, and Lhaklar, have been trying to get the cash together for his glass for a few months now." Angel said while putting her hand on her youngest son's shoulder. Lazeer had started to get upset and he had also been starting in on causing a fight between he and his brother, two things that she didn't want to happen.

"How long has he experienced the sensitivity?" TazirVile asked his wife.

"For quite a while now," Lazeer replied. "Since I was six hundred and fifty-nine years old."

"You've been suffering the effects..." TazirVile sighed then looked down; he told himself to calm it. His wife, a single mother, would not of had an easy go in being able to collect the cash required for a goggled glass while also trying to take care of the demands of her four growing boys. "I can get him his glass, or contact if he w—"

"Glass, thanks. Contacts create issues with the eyes and I'm a boy." Lazeer said. When his father looked at him he took a step back. "Hey man, no offense but us males aren't as "hygienic" as females."

"He's been watching a bit too much tv lately—a program was run a few months ago about a young man who lost part of his eye-sight after putting, and then leaving, his contact lenses on the bathroom sink." Angel said.

He was a wee bit offended; although it was true that men were less neat and tidy, and less hygienically inclined as woman were, he made damn sure to keep himself as clean, neat, and tidy as he could. Not only was it important for his image as a conqueror but it was also much more healthier too. TazirVile nodded his head; he said that he understood then he led his wife, and their sons, out from the medical chamber. He took them straight back to the room that they had been put in.

In the time that would happen between now and when they finally appeared at home, his sons would be fed, would be allowed to sleep, and would be allowed to walk around freely. He had given the order that they weren't to have any escorts or be watched.

His mother and stepfather had been taken to the side an hour ago; they had been asked to vacant the ship after it was landed—in a few months time, he had said, a series of invites would be sent out for the family to come by. After he and his family had become established, and had grown to know one another a little better, everyone else would be allowed to come over to see and then interact and then make relationships of their own with the boys. His mother and Cheshire had nodded their heads and then said that they understood; instead of waiting to teleport home after the ship was landed they had made the decision to go on and teleport right then and there.

TazirVile was walking down the hallway, heading towards the cockpit to resume driving his ship and family and employees back home, when he heard his wife calling him. He stopped on a dime then turned around right after hearing her voice.

"Do all of us a favor when we get to Moas," Angel said after he turned to face her. "Keep the reporters away. I don't want my sons, or me, to be exposed to any sort of camera activity and I don't want to have a mic shoved under our noses."

"My love, I'm landing this baby in my underground hanger. If there are any reporters at the front gate, all they'll be able to photograph or tape is my ship hovering and then lowering behind our house." TazirVile said. "No one will have access to you or our sons, I promise."

"You make sure of that—we're all nervous enough. We don't need anything else to up the gauge anymore." Angel said. She gave him a serious look before disappearing into the room that her, and his, sons were in. TazirVile, after his wife's presence in the hallway was gone, stood still in the hallway for a few seconds before turning and then resuming his walk back to the cockpit.


End file.
